


Holmescest - Brothers in Love

by storytellerof221b



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Blindfolds, Blood, Bondage, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Detox, Dominant Mycroft, Drugs, Force Feeding, Gags, Guilt, Jealousy, M/M, Nightmares, Nipple Clamps, Rehabilitation, Riding Crop, Rough Sex, Sibling Incest, Traumatic Experiences, Violence against Children, Virgin Sherlock, forced pissing, rope burns, ropes, submissive Sherlock, switch Gregory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-22 21:43:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 13
Words: 27,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23000863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storytellerof221b/pseuds/storytellerof221b
Summary: This is the story of Mycroft and Sherlock who suffer under their violent father and ignorant mother. They grow up and cope with life. Sherlock depends on his brother and adores him. They end up in an incestuous relationship with only each other but things around them change.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/Mycroft Holmes, sherlock holmes/mycroft holmes/greg lestrade
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter One - How It All Began

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I haven't tried before but I found it always fascinating reading it.
> 
> If you get triggered by child abuse, please don't read this.
> 
> If you find incest offending or repelling, please don't read this and spare me the hate comments.

A four-year-old Sherlock was running through the large estate. He was screaming. His father came after him holding a rattan cane and yelling at him.  
“You stupid brat! Can’t you leave things alone! Why do you have to touch everything? Destroy everything? I will make you pay! One day you will finally behave!”  
Sherlock’s father had problems keeping up. Sherlock was small but quick. He could find hiding places all over the house. Right now, he knew what to expect. He was scared. He would hurt for days if his father would catch him. His brain kept working while his body moved up the stairs.  
Suddenly a door was opened and Sherlock’s eleven-year-old brother Mycroft grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. He looked down at the frightened child and held his index finger to his lips. Sherlock pressed his lips together. Mycroft pointed to his bed and Sherlock crawled under the duvet. He calmed his breath and waited for his father to appear. It would happen soon enough.

He knew the cane already. The last time he broke something, he had been hit with it several times on his tiny bum and thighs. There had been welts and also blood. He had been hoarse because he screamed so much. There was no one in to help him that day. Mycroft had been at school and his mother was having a drug-induced dream. The butler or the maids didn’t dare standing up against his father. So, he had to endure the thrashing.  
He had shown his brother later begging for his help. And Mycroft did take care of him, treated him with ointment, and carefully bathed him. He hadn’t left his side for days and Mycroft had to stay away from school until Sherlock was ready to face the world again.  
Of course, their father mustn’t know Mycroft wasn’t going to school. So, he had left the house as usual but hid in the garden and returned after their father had left for work. He also blackmailed the teacher by threatening to tell the director everything about his affair with said one's wife. That's why everything was kept secret.

Sherlock’s head was spinning. He could hear his brother opening the door sounding annoyed.  
“What’s all the noise, father? What did Sherlock do this time?” Their father entered Mycroft’s room.  
“Your beastly little brother made it into the library again and poked around the fire-place to get at some left-over papers I burnt yesterday. While poking ash and dust and whatnot swirled around and made everything dirty. The maids will need days to clean everything. Not to talk about the books needing restoration. I hate him! If I catch him, I will have his things packed and send him off.”  
“Off where, father? He is too young for boarding school.”  
“I don’t know, somewhere off. Away. Orphanage. I can’t stand this little …” He kept muttering but Sherlock had pressed his little hands over his ears. He didn’t want to hear again how unloved he was in this house.  
“He is only four years old. I am sure he will learn. I will show him, father, don’t worry.”  
“What would I do without you, Mycroft?” They talked some more but Sherlock didn’t listen. He trusted his brother to get rid of his father.  
Finally, the duvet was pulled away and Sherlock looked up. Mycroft sat on the bed beside him.  
“Is it true? Did you go into the library and poke into the fire-place?” Sherlock nodded.  
“Yes. I wanted to know if the burnt papers could be restored.”  
“Why?”  
“I think father burnt something important. He wanted to hide something. I wanted to know what it was.”  
“And you didn’t think of asking me first? I could have helped.”  
“I wanted proof first. I would have come to you, only later.” Mycroft didn’t question Sherlock’s words. He knew his father wasn’t a good person. He betrayed his wife and he loathed his younger son. Mycroft knew he had lost some money on gambling, horse racing and gambling. If only he would have been older, he would have taken his mother and Sherlock and run away.  
“We will have a look tonight. If we are lucky, he will be drunk by then and forget about having the place cleaned.”  
“I have got some pieces already. You can have a look right now. There are words like taxes, amount, overdrawn, due payment and last note on it.” Mycroft swallowed.  
“Show me, please.” Sherlock reached into his pockets and carefully unfolded some pieces of paper. He proudly handed them over to Mycroft who scanned over them quickly.  
After he had read everything twice, he fell down on the bed and looked at his sibling.  
“You do know what the word “broke” means, do you?”  
“Having no money. Having to sell stuff. Loosing. Poverty.” Mycroft just had to smile.  
“I am so proud of you, Sherlock. You are very, very smart. Of course you are right. Our father did a lot of things a bit not good. We will suffer the consequences if we don’t interfere. I need to talk to our mother about it. It’s her money.” Sherlock looked up at Mycroft.  
“Can I stay here? I am afraid he will come into my bedroom and get me and send me away …” His tiny body trembled and his lips quivered. Mycroft hugged him close and whispered:  
“I won’t let him, Sherlock. Be assured of that. But you may stay here. I will have a shower and be right back.” Sherlock relaxed a bit. Mycroft took a closer look.  
“Have you eaten today?” Sherlock shook his head.  
“I was busy.” Completely earnest.  
“I have some candy bars and nosh. Help yourself.”  
“Come back soon.” Mycroft nodded.  
“I will.” Sherlock sat cross-legged on Mycroft’s bed and waited for him to return. He knew he was safe. His father would not return here. By now he was probably drunk and after the maids.  
They would wait until every single person in this manor would be asleep and then look for more proof.

Mycroft and Sherlock shared the candy and waited for everything to be quiet. Then they sneaked downstairs. Mycroft had a torch and held it up for Sherlock to look for more proof. He was tinier; he could reach places Mycroft couldn’t. And they found a lot.  
Sherlock had a thing for reading. Not that anyone except Mycroft knew he was already able to read. His father suspected something, but couldn't be sure. He could also find stuff which was being hidden very carefully. But he was able to find out. He saw the tiniest changes in how things were placed and sorted.

They sneaked back up and crawled under the duvet. Sherlock’s eyes slowly drooped. He was close to Mycroft. His little hands were clutching his shirt.  
“Do you think this will help?” He asked and his voice was so tired. Mycroft nodded and placed his chin on Sherlock’s longish hair.  
“Yes, I do. I will show mother tomorrow as soon as father has gone to work.” He drew circles on Sherlock’s back who was still very tense.  
“I can’t sleep, Mycroft.” Sherlock quietly murmured. He looked stressed having a wrinkle between his brows already.  
“Do you want me to tell you a story?” He slowly shook his head frowning.  
“No, I want you to sing a song for me.” Mycroft sighed but he did as asked.


	2. Chapter Two - Boarding School

Mycroft did talk to their mother with Sherlock standing close by. Their mother was not amused but believed everything they presented. She called their lawyer, set up the divorce papers and called some security. Then she had packed a few belongings of her soon to be ex-husband. After Mycroft had Sherlock made undress and show his scars, she had security walk the premises. Since that day she never touched pills or alcohol again.

Sherlock was insanely happy about the fact that his father had disappeared out of his life. Even though his mother wasn’t behaving very motherly, she did care for him in a certain way. At least there were some nannies around trying to look after him. But the most important thing was that no one beat him anymore.

***

Mycroft soon left for boarding school but ordered little Sherlock to call him, write him and tell him everything he wanted. That helped him a lot being all alone. Most of all being the most intelligent human on the estate, even though he was only 7 years old, didn’t make his life simple.  
He yearned for the holidays when Mycroft came home. He would stand outside and wait for him. He was the only one he could talk to. He was also the only one who would understand him. The only problem was that Mycroft didn’t fancy babysitting him too much. Soon Sherlock learned to leave him alone when he brought friends home. But he would be there for dinner and the hours after.

Sherlock sucked as much information out of his older brother as he could. Mycroft got fed information at school and taught Sherlock an awful lot of that. Soon they were playing chess together. One day Sherlock found a chemistry book and asked Mycroft to make something explode. Both of them had to see the doctor afterwards and their mother hid all the dangerous books from them. At least she thought so. They were just more careful afterwards.

One night they sat on Mycroft’s bed again nibbling nosh.  
“Sherlock, why is your hair so long? You look like a fairy, like a girl.” Sherlock shrugged.  
“I like it because people underestimate me when looking at me. They think me harmless which I am not.”  
“That’s really smart.” Sherlock nodded and crunched. Then he looked up at him.  
“I miss you, Mycroft. When can I come to school with you?”  
“You can’t go to boarding school yet. You are only seven years old. You need to wait for three more years.”  
“But I know everything already!”  
“I know that and so does mother. But they won’t accept a child in a dorm.”  
“I am probably smarter than the teachers are.”  
“I know you are. And I know you are bored at your school and that’s why you behave the way you do.”  
“I am sorry to upset mummy but I can’t help it. I just go there and wait until it’s over. And I keep waiting for you to come home.”  
“Really?” Sherlock nodded.  
“Yes, Mycroft. I know you don’t want me around when your friends are here. That’s fine. I know they will leave after some time and then you will be there for me. And if there will be less time for me in the future when you are going to sleep with people, could you then maybe record the song for me?” Mycroft coughed and spit out some candy.  
“What? Sleep with people? Where did you get that from?” Sherlock shrugged.  
“Mummy was talking to aunt Mauve. Both of them were wondering if you preferred men or women or both.” Innocent eyes looked up at him.  
“What does that mean?” Mycroft cleared his throat.  
“Well, I am not really surprised you are thinking of that. You know, I haven’t really given many thoughts to that. No one is interesting enough to have fun with. And as long as I have the time, I will sing that song for you, I promise.” Sherlock hugged him close and just held him.  
“Please write letters to me and tell me everything you learn. I need to know more. I don’t want to get bored more than I am now. Everybody else hates me. Nobody at school likes me.”  
“It’s because you are different. You are high above everybody else’s intelligence, you are superior.” Thoughtful he looked at his younger brother.  
“You know what? I will send you letters with puzzles and riddles. You have to find the clue in a certain time and let me know the solution. What do you think?”  
“That sounds great! I love riddles and puzzles! I can’t wait for them!”  
“Sherlock, I had the same problems when I was your age. I was all alone but I made it. You have me. You will become even stronger than me.”  
“That would be frightening, wouldn’t it?” Mycroft laughed.  
“Only for the people who deserve being frightened of us, Sherly.” He rested his head on Mycroft’s chest and closed his eyes. It was the sign to start the singing. Obediently Mycroft did start.


	3. Chapter Three - University

Sherlock was still waiting in front of the estate when Mycroft was supposed to be coming home. He always tried to time the correct moment to be at home when his brother was and was lucky most of the time. Since he was at boarding school now and Mycroft at university, they saw each other only rarely. But they wrote letters, very long letters. Sometimes Sherlock would call him and sometimes Mycroft did. Mycroft still sent riddles and puzzles. And Sherlock still enjoyed solving them.  
This time Mycroft came home for mummy’s birthday. Sherlock hated these occasions but he knew his brother would be in which was the only reason everything was bearable. All their relatives were after mummy’s money after she had thrown out her husband and got a divorce. Also, some men were trying to get their foot inside but stood no chance.  
His brother had called before to let him know he would bring a friend home. He asked him to not be jealous and that he would be there for him.  
Sherlock didn’t want to disappoint Mycroft. He didn’t show any of the emotions washing through him. Instead he hid inside his room for once not waiting for his older brother outside when he arrived. He wondered what kind of person Mycroft would bring home. He hadn’t asked him if it was a guy or a girl. And was that important anyway?

Sherlock would come down only for dinner. He had dressed up and greeted his brother almost casual. He hugged his mummy, too. He was polite to the guy Mycroft brought. A guy it was then. Mummy didn’t care. The guy looked at Sherlock as if he was an ugly toad. Sherlock just returned the stare.  
After dinner Sherlock at once retreated to his room and lay on his bed. He hoped Mycroft would come over but he wouldn’t ask. He probably was busy shagging his boyfriend. He sighed.  
Soon enough it knocked on his door.  
“Come in!” Mycroft entered his room walking over to him. He sat on the bed and seriously looked at him. His hand reached out and took Sherlock’s.  
“I was wondering why you didn’t wait for me as you always did, Sherlock. I was afraid you were sick or something else had happened.” Sherlock didn’t reply but looked at him and Mycroft asked:  
“Are you jealous?” Sherlock tensed a bit but soon answered him.  
“Yes, I am. He’s not nice. He’s not good for you. I don’t like him. He doesn’t like me.”  
“What makes you think he’s not good for me?” Mycroft wondered.  
“He looks that. He reeks of evil. He wants your money. Have you slept with him already?” Mycroft looked at him thinking.  
“You know, Sherly, I already had doubts but I didn’t want to think. I wanted to have fun. That’s why I brought him home. I wanted to sleep with him these days.”  
“Do you still want?” He shook his head no.  
“No, not at all. You know what? I love you.” He smiled and patted his head. His fingers got caught in his uncombed hair. He pulled them out a bit too rough and forced his brother’s head close. Sherlock hissed but didn’t complain. Instead he just looked up at him through his eyelashes.  
“I love you, too. You are the only one who cares for me. Send him home. Please?” Mycroft grinned.  
“If you are saying please once a year it must be important. I will do so right now. Don’t worry. I will be back soon.”  
“Will you sing for me?” He turned around already standing at the door.  
“Sherlock, you are eleven years old.”  
“So what?”  
“Yes, you are right.” He nodded and left to catch up with his friend. Sherlock was able to hear everything. He opened the door just a little bit so he was able to see Mycroft dragging his friend along and outside where he handed him over to security to bring him to the station.  
He could hear the words being spoken.  
“You are a sick bastard, Mycroft Holmes. You don’t want to shag me because you are shagging your insane little brother?”  
“This is none of your business. If I hear any of this ever again, I will tell the right persons about how you made your way into university. Think about it!” And he had him shoved into the car and driven away.  
Mycroft looked smug and returned inside. He took something to eat from the kitchen and brought it up to Sherlock’s room. He found him sitting cross-legged on his bed. The second thing he saw was the bottle of red wine on the bedside table.  
“Sherlock!”  
“I got it for you! I know you like it.” Sherlock pouted and Mycroft had to smile.  
“It’s fine. Thank you, Sherlock. Now, if you steal for me why don’t you pour it for me?” Sherlock happily got up. Very carefully he poured the fine wine into a nice glass. Of course, he had gotten the correct glass and filled it up to the correct amount. He had watched the butler do so too many times not to know. He gestured for his brother to sit on the duvet and handed him the glass.  
“What about you, Sherlock?”  
“I don’t want anything. I want you here is all.”  
“Have some fruits at least.” He fed him with strawberries and orange slices. Sherlock dutifully took them from his brother. Later on, he stole some sips of wine and Mycroft let him. He was exhausted by now but knew he was expected to entertain his little brother.  
But when the glass almost slipped out of his grip, he found he was too tired to do anything. Sherlock just took the wine and pulled him down by his legs. He took the duvet and pulled it up over both of them.  
“Stay and sleep, Mycroft. Just go to sleep and relax. I am here.” Eleven-year-old Sherlock huddled close to his brother and had his tiny arm around his waist. His head rested against Mycroft’s chest and he listened to his steady heartbeat.  
These were the only days he was able to sleep for more than three or four hours.

***

Mycroft woke up feeling a bit weird. He had slept in Sherlock’s bed. So far so good. His younger brother’s head was on his groin which was a bit not good since he was hard. He was aroused and felt his member leaking. Sherlock was still asleep and snoring a little bit. Adorable really. He tried to wiggle free and made it into a sitting position against the headrest. Sherlock’s mop of curls was unruly and he was drooling on the pillow by now. Mycroft’s eyes wandered over his brother’s body or what he could see of it. His gaze rested on his face being rather different from his own.

Mycroft was 18 by now and had made his experiences already with both men and women. He found he clearly was into men. And when he watched his little brother, he knew his feelings weren’t right. He wanted him in a way he shouldn’t. He thought of him as beautiful, lovable and whatnot.  
When he had tugged his hair earlier, he had seen how his pupils had dilated. He hadn’t complained about being hurt. Instead he had followed the move almost expectantly. And Mycroft hoped.

Sherlock was only eleven. Somehow, he knew later he would be open to a sexual relationship. But not now, he was just too young. Surely, he understood the concept and would adapt but it wouldn’t be possible to hide this.  
They needed to wait for some more years until Mycroft would be having a place of his own and could have Sherlock over. Until then he would keep on singing and maybe touching just a little bit.


	4. Chapter Four - A Safe Place

Mycroft had finished university rather early. He had been an over average student and was sucked into MI6 by the age of barely 23. He was skilled, he was trained and he became dangerous on a completely different level.  
He barely came home anymore and Sherlock was at university now. He was given the chance to become the youngest student ever being admitted to most of the courses. He was still bored and created chaos wherever he went.  
When he became sixteen, he shot up in height. He was looking rather attractive now with his dark curls still a bit too long for this place, but he didn’t care. He was tall and lanky but well-muscled and had finely sculptured limbs which showed during sports. He attended martial arts, rowing, and riding. First the others thought they could beat him there but he wasn’t the typical geek. Soon enough they gave up and left him alone.

Sherlock realised he was wanted in a sexual way. They wanted his body and they wanted to own him, claim him. But he didn’t allow anyone to touch him. He knew he could gain power but all he ever wanted was Mycroft.

Summer break was up and Sherlock stood in front of Paddington Station waiting for Mycroft’s car to pick him up. He was looking forward to seeing him again. He hadn’t seen him for three months by now which was quite a long time.  
The car pulled up and came to a screeching halt right in front of him. He lowered his head and grinned seeing his older brother behind the wheel. He threw his bag on the back-seat and sat beside him. They hugged and Mycroft drove home.  
“Where did you move to?” Sherlock asked.  
“I bought myself a rather nice town-house. You will like it. The first thing I made up was the living room and the bedroom.”  
“That’s nice to know …” Sherlock murmured. Mycroft looked at him.  
“Excuse me?” They looked at each other and Sherlock smiled.  
“I said it’s nice to know that you have taken care of the place, so I don’t have to sleep on the floor.”  
“Have I ever let you sleep on the floor, Sherlock?”  
“No, of course not. I always sleep in your bed.” Mycroft sighed.  
“I will sleep in your bed, won’t I?”  
“Of course, you will. I won’t change that for anything.” He drove into the garage which belonged to his place. They took Sherlock’s bag and entered the elevator. The doors opened into a hall with hardwood floor.  
“Now this is fucking nice, Mycroft!” Sherlock once turned around and just dropped his bag.  
“I couldn’t have worded it better, little brother.” They smiled and Mycroft picked up his brother’s bag when Sherlock just ventured along opening all the doors having a look inside. Finally, they reached the living-room where Mycroft had two very nice armchairs in front of a big fireplace. There was a big bar, too, as was a large Chesterfield sofa. Sherlock at once walked over to it and fell down.  
“You did a good job, Mycroft. I like this place.”  
“I am happy when you are.” Sherlock looked up at him.  
“Could we have take-away tonight?”  
“Don’t tell me you are hungry!” Sherlock grinned.  
“I want to have a nice evening. I know you are worried about my eating habits. So just let’s, okay?”  
“It’s fine, I will order Chinese then?” Sherlock nodded and eyed the bar.  
“Sherlock, you are only sixteen!” He pouted.  
“We are at home. Nobody will know!” Mycroft poured them a whiskey.  
“Agreed, little brother. But you won’t help yourself, understood?”  
“Yes, Mycroft.” He looked up at him again. Mycroft had moved closer not realising how close he was right now. Sherlock’s eyes wandered over his well-clad body and licked his lips unconsciously.  
“What’s wrong?” Mycroft wondered feeling a little scrutinised. Sherlock reached out and moved his palm over his thigh. Mycroft twitched but he didn’t go away.  
“Nothing, I just adore your clothes. You look nice.”  
“Thank you, Sherlock. But actually, I want to get a bit comfy now. I will change. Could you grab the take-away menu and order? It’s on the kitchen counter.” He got up slowly.  
“OK, no problem. But I want to see the rest of this lair, too.” Mycroft raised his eyebrows.  
“Lair?” Sherlock chuckled.  
“I think it’s a suitable expression for a government agent’s place?”  
“This is not the bat-cave, Sherlock.” Now he openly laughed.  
“You are just as secretive as Bruce Wayne, Mycroft! You are a spy; you need a lair!” Mycroft shook his head and walked into the bedroom where he changed into soft flannel pyjamas, warm socks, and an old tee.  
Walking back, he found Sherlock on the phone ordering their dinner. He poured them drinks and sat in his chair. Looking at Sherlock’s grown body from behind, he thought of the day he threw his boyfriend out. He had woken up with a throbbing hard-on thinking about his baby-brother. He knew he had been having incestuous thoughts, a whole lot of them, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted Sherlock. He loved his brother. He loved him in a way society wouldn’t approve of.  
Well, he didn’t give a fuck. Sherlock was sixteen now and he wanted him. Badly.  
“Mycroft?” He felt Sherlock’s hand on his shoulder. He looked up and met his eyes. He looked irritated.  
“What?”  
“You wouldn’t answer me. What’s up? You were offline.”  
“I suppose I was. What did you want?”  
“I asked for the bathroom because I want to shower before dinner.”  
“I am sorry, little brother, I was lost in thoughts.”  
“It’s fine as long as you are alright.”  
“I am, absolutely, don’t worry, I am just fine.” He smiled up at Sherlock and elicited a wide and genuine smile in return. He was dazzled and felt his spine tingle in amazement. Quickly he got up.  
“Come on. I will show you.” They went to the big bathroom and Sherlock was in awe when he eyed the large shower stall.  
“You really made it, Mycroft, this is fantastic. It’s large enough for two.” Almost innocently he looked back at him.  
“You won’t acquire any assistance, Sherlock?”  
“Of course not. I will hurry.” Mycroft handed over some towels and a bathrobe. After closing the door, he deeply breathed leaning against the wooden frame. He listened to the water splashing.  
“Is he doing this on purpose? Does he want me, too? I suppose we need to talk about it.” He sighed and returned into his armchair sipping his drink.  
When Sherlock returned, he also had pyjamas and a tee on but his feet were bare.  
“This is better. Now I feel like home!” He fell onto the sofa again. Mycroft looked at him.  
“Your hair is all damp. Please place a towel underneath your head.”  
“Spoilsport!” But he did as being told. Once he was done Mycroft got up and walked over. He crouched in front of the sofa.  
“Sherlock, we need to talk. I need to tell you something.” Almost lazily Sherlock turned his head to look directly at him.  
“Well, Mycroft, go on then. I waited for this speech for almost my whole life.” Mycroft swallowed.  
“What do you mean?” Sherlock got up on his elbows.  
“You are going to tell me about your desire, about your longing. You want me, Mycroft. You wanted me for a very long time. I want you, too. I was ready before, but I waited for you to come out.”  
“It’s wrong.” Sherlock shook his head.  
“It can’t be wrong because we both want it; we love each other and nobody will ever now.”  
“Have you ever had sex?” Now Sherlock pressed his lips together.  
“No. As I just said, I waited for you.”  
“Oh God, Sherlock, I don’t know what to say …” Mycroft’s eyes watered.  
“As long as you know what to do …” Sherlock tilted his head and licked his lips.  
“Be assured of that, Sherlock, I do know.” They looked at each other. The tension broke when the doorbell rang and the food was delivered. Mycroft shoved Sherlock into the kitchen to set up the table and went to fetch the food himself. He generously tipped the delivery guy and returned.  
Sherlock had found everything they needed and had done a good job. Everything for once looked in order and was placed correctly. He had found the linen tablecloths, too. He showed the wine glasses to Mycroft who got a bottle. They sat down and Mycroft filled their plates.  
Sherlock started to pick his food as usual and Mycroft glared.  
“Eat, Sherlock, you will need your strength.” Sherlock understood very well and dove in. After the first few bites his hunger returned and he finished everything.  
After they were done, they took the wine and sat in front of the fireplace again. Mycroft seriously looked at him and started to speak.  
“First of all, you must know that I am insanely happy. But we need to discuss everything.” Sherlock shrugged.  
“I love you. You love me. What’s left to discuss?”  
“We need to discuss my kinks.”  
“Kinks? What kinks?”  
“See what I mean?”  
“No?” Mycroft sighed.  
“Let me explain then. You waited for me and I love you for that. But it also means you are completely inexperienced.”  
“I have been reading a lot. I have been watching, too.”  
“I am not asking.”  
“I just …”  
“It’s fine, Sherlock. Just listen.” Sherlock closed his mouth and stared at his older brother.  
“Thank you, Sherlock. I have tried both women and men. It became soon quite clear, that I am into men. What also became clear was, that I like to dominate my partners in bed. Meaning, they do what I tell them to do. I use toys on them. I tie them up. I use blindfolds and different gags. I hurt them.” All the time he had looked at his brother. While he was listening intently, he slowly got up into a sitting position and leant towards Mycroft. His lips were slightly opened and he licked over them unintentionally.  
Mycroft let his eyes wander down his body and saw his erection straining against his pyjamas.  
“It seems you are not too shocked?”  
“Quite the contrary, Mycroft. What you just said, it is not boring; it is exciting. I trust you with my life.”  
“Jesus, Sherlock, you have no idea what you are doing to me …” The brothers smiled.  
“You must show me everything. You can ask me everything and teach me new stuff as you always did. I depend on you. I have been waiting for so long. Please …” Mycroft stood and walked around to Sherlock’s side. He palmed his face and stroked over his cheekbone with his thumb. Sherlock closed his eyes.  
“I will show you everything, Sherlock. I will make it good for you, I promise.” Sherlock smiled still with his eyes closed.  
“I know.” He only whispered but it sounded full of trust.


	5. Chapter Five - The Sex

Mycroft gently carded through Sherlock's locks and Sherlock lazily pushed back like a big, dark cat. He completely relaxed into the sofa. Out of half open eyes he looked at his older brother.  
“Could we have a fire, please?” Sherlock asked.  
“Are you freezing?” Mycroft worried but Sherlock shook his head no.  
“Actually, I thought it would be nice ...?” Self-consciously he bit his lower lip and Mycroft’s cock twitched in his confined space.  
“It will be perfect!” Mycroft smiled and sat on the sofa's armrest. They both sipped their wine and looked into each other's eyes.  
Finally, Mycroft took Sherlock’s glass and put it away on the floor with his own. He sat by his side and had his arm around his shoulders. He pulled him close and lowered his head. Sherlock didn’t make a move when Mycroft’s lips pressed on his. His lips opened all by themselves and Mycroft grazed his bottom lip with his teeth. Sherlock moaned and melted into the sofa. Mycroft’s fingers were in his hair and held his head. His tongue moved over his gum and teeth plundering him; their tongues twirling around each other. Sherlock’s eyes fluttered closed when Mycroft sucked his tongue. His arms moved up and he clung to his older brother. He was pressed into the leather and he let it happen not having the wish to act. He just enjoyed holding on to his brother.  
Mycroft could feel Sherlock submit to him. He didn’t even try to reciprocate. But it was obvious he did enjoy his administrations. His little moaning sounds, his breathing pattern, everything made it clear.

Mycroft broke the kiss and looked at Sherlock.  
“Don’t stop! Proceed with the kissing! It’s fantastic!” Tenderly Mycroft took some strands of Sherlock’s longish hair and tugged.  
“You are not the one in charge here, Sherly. I am. So, if you want anything, you have to ask for it. Nicely. Now try again!” Sherlock’s eyes were wide when he thought about it. He licked his lips and tried:  
“Please, Mycroft, would you continue to kiss me? I like it a lot and I need you close. Could you please proceed?” Mycroft tilted his head.  
“Not too bad, but you have to address me correctly.”  
“Your name is Mycroft, isn’t it? Or have you changed it recently without letting me know?” Now he pulled him close by his hair and he hissed but still didn’t resist.  
“My name still is Mycroft but not during our scenes. You will address me with “Sir” and I want to hear full sentences all the time. Understood?” Sherlock swallowed.  
“Yes, Sir, I understood everything you said, Sir.”  
“Very good. Your safeword is _cave_. Whenever you say it, I will stop whatever I was doing at the very moment. If you are not able to speak, which will be absolutely possible, you cross your index and middle finger of your right hand. If you ever feel uncomfortable with something, I order you to do, you will let me know at once. This is as much for your pleasure as it is for mine. Whenever you feel bad or sick, you will tell me right away. Did you understand what I said?”  
“I am not deaf, Mycroft.” Sherlock didn’t expect Mycroft to smack him. His head flew to the side and his hair hung into his face. His hand moved up and cupped his own face. Shocked he looked up at his brother.  
“I didn’t hear you, Sherly.” Low voiced spoken, dangerous. Sherlock understood and swallowed.  
“I am sorry, Sir. I understood everything you just said and will act accordingly. Please forgive me, Sir?”  
“Drop your hand, Sherlock!” He did as being told. His cheek showed the imprint of Mycroft’s fingers but he didn’t complain. Mycroft saw his eyes and was surprised. His pupils were wide in a mix of surprise and arousal. His gaze wandered down and he wasn’t too surprised anymore to find Sherlock’s prick showing clearly against the fabric of his pyjamas pressing against the restraining cotton.  
“Stand and strip!” Suddenly Mycroft’s voice was sharp again and he stood a few steps apart from Sherlock who was taken aback. But he got up at once and started to undress by pulling his tee over his head.  
“Yes, Sir!” Sherlock looked down when he hooked his fingers under the waistband of his pyjamas. He saw the proof of his arousal and felt shame. He wasn’t experienced. He only knew by theory. How could he ever please Mycroft? What if he did everything wrong? What if he acted bloody stupid? What if … He started to shake and his lips quivered. His hands clawed into the hem of his pyjamas and he wouldn’t look up at his brother.  
Mycroft of course saw his brother's reaction. He saw the tension and the shame. Then he saw the tears falling down his cheeks. He gently took Sherlock’s hands and plied them off the hem. He pulled him close and slung his arms around the thin frame. He hugged him and muttered senseless nonsense into his ear. He listened to his quiet sobbing and felt his shaking body against his own. And only when he felt him calm down, he quietly asked:  
“What happened, Sherly? What’s wrong? Did I hurt you too much? Were you afraid? What happened? Come, sit down, and relax. Have another drink.” He made him sit and handed him his tumbler. Sherlock washed it down and told his brother about his feelings.  
“You didn’t hurt me; I was just surprised. But I felt so small. I never had the feeling of not knowing about something before. It frightened me. I cannot bear to not know about something, Mycroft. I don’t know what you expect of me. I feel self-conscious about my doing, about me. I am so sorry to have disappointed you …” And he started crying again, more loudly this time.  
Mycroft knelt in front of Sherlock and placed his palms flat on his thighs.  
“No, Sherly, no. Please, please, please stop crying. I am sorry. I am the one who should be sorry. I rushed into this too quick. I wanted too quickly. You are a virgin. You waited for me because you loved and trusted me. I failed …”  
Suddenly Sherlock slung his long arms around his brother and pressed against him. His hands clawed into his clothing and his face was pressed against his chest.  
“I don’t want to lose you because I am not able to please you! I love you! I want you! I have so many feelings, I just can’t …” Mycroft just held him and stroked over his bare back. He drew circles on his skin and tried to soothe him.  
“You won’t lose me. Ever. I love you, too. And God knows, I want you!” Sherlock sobbed several times and hiccuped. Then he looked at Mycroft out of a blotchy face and red-rimmed eyes.  
“Would you kiss me again? Please?” Mycroft smiled and kissed him. Slow and tender. He tasted the salt left by his tears on his lips. Sherlock tilted his head and clung to him like a magnet to iron. Mycroft snogged him senseless but did nothing else.  
And when he finally stopped, he pulled Sherlock up and said:  
“Come on, let’s go to bed. We are both exhausted. Just don’t worry anymore, please?” Sherlock didn’t reply but followed him suit. He was halfway naked anyway. He just crawled under the duvet followed right behind by Mycroft who pulled him against his chest at once.  
He felt Sherlock still being tense. He pressed kisses on his skin wherever he could reach. Finally, he felt him relax. Only then he quietly started to sing. And he was able to watch his little brother fall asleep with a smile on his face.


	6. Chapter Six - Dreams

Sherlock soon fell asleep after Mycroft had started to sing. He completely relaxed in his arms. But his dreams were haunted. He dreamt of being tied up to a tree in a dark forest. He couldn’t see because he was blindfolded. His mouth was stuffed full of foliage. He was gagging. His hands were tied on his lower back. His ankles were tied, too. His whole body was tied to the tree.  
Somebody kept poking on his body. Soon enough he got whipped by a twig. He tried to scream but he only choked on the leaves. He coughed some out but couldn’t get rid of them completely.  
Not a word was spoken during his torture until he suddenly felt something around his cock. It didn’t feel like a human hand or fingers. He had no idea of what it actually felt. Hairier, perhaps, he wasn’t sure. He tried to wiggle away but his cock got pulled rather brutally and he gave in.  
He cried and snot ran out of his nose. He was barely able to breath.  
Then these things were on his balls like fingers. They moved them, fondled them, and squeezed them, too. He hurt so much. The hand returned to his prick moving up and down. A shocked Sherlock realised he was getting hard. He felt pleasure. He felt hot and was sure his skin was crimson.  
The hand sneaked between his cheeks and felt for his hole. Sherlock didn’t move. He was shell-shocked. Then the finger pressed inside. It hurt like hell and burnt. He couldn’t scream but coughed out some more leaves. He choked.  
His pleasure increased. The hand around his cock smeared pre-cum all over it. A digit pressed on the slit. And another one pressed inside his behind. Sherlock’s body jerked and his hole clenched around the intruding digit.  
Soon enough he got overwhelmed by pleasure and pain. He started to make wanton noises and moved his hips as much as he could while being tied to the tree.  
A second finger was pressed into him stretching his hole wider. Sherlock howled and the foliage rustled. Then the insistent things found his prostate and started to rub over it. Again and again they pressed down on it or rubbed over it until poor Sherlock was a sobbing mess against the tree.  
Suddenly his balls twitched and his prick jerked. The thin and hairy digits quickly moved from his hole to his nose closing it. Blinding white lights shot through his brain while he came. Long and hard he shot his cum all over the place. They milked him completely and coaxed everything out until he was hanging limply in his bindings.

***

Poor frightened Sherlock hung in his restraints against the tree. He cried when they started to move between his cheeks again. They found their way inside and started to rub over his over-sensitive prostate again.  
He still felt pleasure but the pain was present, too. Painpleasure. He passed out.


	7. Chapter Seven - Trust

Mycroft woke when Sherlock moaned and sobbed by his side. He made gurgling noises and bucked. He rubbed his eyes and looked down at Sherlock. He shook him once.  
“Sherlock? You are having a nightmare! Wake up!” But he didn’t. Instead he threw his head from left to right and back making frightened noises. He was sweating and Mycroft threw the duvet off. At once it became obvious, he had a throbbing member. He had been leaking into his pyjamas. Right now, he moved as if someone gave him a bloody hand-job.  
“Sherlock!” Mycroft yelled and shook him by the shoulders. Sherlock screamed and came. His body shook violently and he was panting. He slumped in Mycroft’s grip and slowly opened his eyes.  
“My ...? What … I …” Mycroft soothed him while holding him tightly to his chest.  
“Sherlock, you were having a bad dream. Or not so bad. I am not sure.” Sherlock’s hand fell on his groin and the noise he made was sounding disgusted.  
“Oh God, I dreamt of sex, violent sex. I felt pain and pleasure. Mostly pleasure. Rather obvious, isn’t it?” His laugh was almost hysterical.  
“Come down, Sherly, please? I feel so bad for giving you such a nightmare.”  
“It’s not your fault, Mycroft. I should have prepared better.”  
“I think I will try something else with you.” Sherlock tried to move closer but Mycroft held him down.  
“Now?”  
“No, not now. Now you are going to take a shower. If you let your cum cool on your skin, it will dry and itch later. Badly. Now go!”  
Without a word Sherlock got out of bed and slumped into the bath. He got out of his pyjamas and made a face. He threw them into the laundry bag with Mycroft’s washing. Then he looked at his penis. It was sadly hanging between his legs by now, but he still could feel the tingling on his spine. He sighed.

Only when he stood under the running water washing his prick, he started to feel better. He tried to repeat the motions they had performed on him in his dream. He didn’t dare stuck his finger inside his hole though. How would he know how these things were supposed to feel? And why did he have this dream? Mycroft didn’t do anything. Sherlock tried to remember all the books he had been reading in advance. Or maybe he had been visiting the wrong sites online when doing research on the sex thing. Or perhaps he should have been listening to the other guys more intently, when they were showing off regarding girls and wanking. But he had never considered this important enough to focus on. He never even masturbated.

He still felt his body tingling. He felt bloody fantastic. And this had only been a dream. What would it feel like when Mycroft touched him? He towelled himself dry and walked back all naked glory to look for a second pyjama. His cock was on his way back up again, too. He felt it and it made him feel a bit weird.

Mycroft sat against the headrest watching him when he walked back in.  
“Hell, don’t you look gorgeous!” Sherlock stopped dead and looked at him and then down his lanky body.  
“Really?” Mycroft nodded having realised that Sherlock needed to hear this. His earlier break-down had been a sign.  
“Absolutely! Come back here!” Sherlock forgot about pyjama and lay down beside Mycroft wondering about his intentions. Those became quite clear when his hand touched his cock. Sherlock raggedly inhaled and exhaled several times. This still felt nice.  
“Does it feel good?” He nodded.  
“Oh God, yes, it does.”  
“Turn around, please.” Sherlock didn’t question his brother’s doing. He just turned on his front.  
“Now stretch your arms over your head.” Sherlock did that, too. Mycroft pulled some ropes out from behind the mattress and wound it very slowly around his thin wrists. Sherlock watched him doing this but didn’t interfere.  
Sherlock felt his cock twitch in interest and started to rut against the mattress. At once he got slapped on his cheek.  
“Stop that right away!”  
“But it feels nice!” And he continued. Mycroft just sighed and turned him on his back again. Now Sherlock pressed his legs together and tried to catch his dick between his thighs.  
“I said no, didn’t I?” Mycroft pulled Sherlock down so his arms were stretched out completely. Then he tied his ankles to the posts spreading his long legs wide. He also shoved a pillow under his hips. He knelt beside him.  
“How do you feel, Sherly?”  
“Great. My whole body is tingling. I want to touch myself but I can’t. The ropes feel good against my skin. My arse stings from when you smacked me. It feels good.” They locked eyes and the world stopped existing.  
Sherlock came to life again when Mycroft pulled his nipples. He almost squeaked when Mycroft pressed and turned them, too. Finally, he started to lick his body, he left marks sucking him, kissing him, and biting him. Sherlock was moaning and moving beneath him.  
“Sherlock, I want you to watch me closely. I will suck you off now. Be aware of how I do it, remember everything. You will do it to me later.”  
“I promise to do so. Teach me. You know it works.” Mycroft knelt between Sherlock’s knees and grabbed his cock. He held it at the base and closed his lips around it. Sherlock screamed and Mycroft left bruises on his hips while holding him down. He took him all the way in and let his teeth graze over the tender flesh. He pressed his tongue down and licked all the way up. He repeated the motion several times and licked around the head pressing his tongue into the slit. Sherlock was panting loudly. Mycroft fondled his balls, too. Slowly he sneaked one finger behind his balls moving over the perineum. Sherlock’s breath hitched. Mycroft continued to lick and suck. He took him in completely and let him touch his throat. He swallowed and felt the pre-cum drip out.  
Sherlock’s dick was throbbing and rock hard. The noises he made were rough and sexy.  
“Do you want to intensify your feelings?” He nodded.  
“Oh God, yes, please!” Mycroft got a thin leather blindfold and tied it around his head. Everything went pitch black. All his other senses heightened and when Mycroft sucked his prick, he let out a fierce scream.  
“You are so beautiful, so responsive. But I can’t have you scream like this.” He shoved a rather big ball-gag behind his teeth and buckled it tight. Sherlock moaned and moved his head.  
“Do you remember how to safeword if needed?” Sherlock nodded.  
“Show me!” Sherlock did and Mycroft was satisfied. He watched his baby-brother and could barely believe what he was seeing right now. It was a bound Sherlock wriggling in his restraints with a raging hard-on; moaning desperately and leaking copious amounts of pre-cum.

Mycroft knelt between his spread legs and opened a bottle of lube. He dripped some directly between Sherlock’s legs and started to move his finger over his hole. His other hand tenderly caressed his abdomen and thigh. He felt him relax and carefully pushed inside. A deep groan followed by shaking limbs was the result. Mycroft moved his finger until he was able to push it all the way inside.

Sherlock was caught in the darkness. He was tightly bound and was completely at Mycroft’s mercy. He trusted him with his life. This felt so good. He couldn’t help it; he had to scream and moan all the time. He wasn’t able to suppress his wanton noises and was taken by surprise when Mycroft shoved the gag between his teeth. His jaw was forced open and this added to the pain he already felt.  
Everything increased his pleasure. Now and then he pulled at the ropes to test them. They were holding him down. He wasn’t able to close his legs. He felt Mycroft kneel between them and then there was the finger. The finger was pressed inside and the feeling was intense. He bit into the gag. It wasn’t like it had been in his nightmare. This burnt and hurt, too, but not too bad. Mycroft was tender and careful. And he had used a lot of lube. Now he felt his finger wriggle inside him and his legs jerked. He stretched him and soon he added another finger. He stretched him wide and soon enough Sherlock started to clench around his digits. It felt so good in combination with his fingers on his balls and cock.  
And then Mycroft touched his prostate and Sherlock screamed behind his gag. He tightly closed his eyes and jerked in his restraints. He constantly rubbed over it eliciting the most beautiful, sexy, and intriguing noises from Sherlock.  
Sherlock’s body shook and the moaning didn’t stop. It became rougher by the minute. His throat did suffer but he didn’t care. He was in heaven with Mycroft.  
He barely recognised the third finger being pushed inside. He couldn’t move much, but he was able to push back. Soon he fucked himself on his brother’s fingers. His pleasure increased and his spine tingled until Mycroft rudely pulled his balls.  
“Not yet, Sherly.” Sherlock cried and saliva slowly ran out of his mouth. He coughed and wailed. Mycroft stopped everything and watched him a bit worriedly. But the coughing fit passed and he throatily tried to call out.  
“Myyooaaff?” It sounded a bit like his name and he laid a soothing hand on his chest.  
“Everything is fine, I was a bit worried, that’s all. You OK?” Sherlock nodded lifting his hips. His member was lying flat on his belly trembling with arousal. Mycroft wondered if he was ready. He so wanted to fuck him. He checked his hole again. It was wide and open. He would be tight, it would hurt, but later it would be good. Mycroft decided to proceed.  
He started to untie his legs and massaged him. He also took off the blindfold but left the gag in place. He wanted to see his eyes when he fucked him. He wanted to see him experience his first time. He took one leg over his shoulder and slicked up his cock. Sherlock’s eyes were half closed but fixed on him. He lined up and carefully pushed his head inside.  
God, Sherlock was tight. He watched him closely. He saw him bite into the gag and his eyes were blown wide. He checked his fingers but he seemed to be OK. Mycroft grabbed his prick and moved his hand up and down. He picked up the same rhythm to push inside. Then his head disappeared and he groaned, too.  
Sherlock had seen Mycroft’s prick before and he was scared that he would have this big thing inside him. He felt Mycroft push and held on to the ropes around his wrists. Mycroft moved slowly in and out and with every move forward he slipped inside a bit more.  
Sherlock clenched around him and started to move. He was panting and spit flew out of his mouth. Then suddenly Mycroft’s cock disappeared completely and was buried to the hilt inside. At once he started to move. He changed the angle and pressed Sherlock’s legs up to his chest. Now he was able to touch his prostate. With every single push his prick moved over the little thing and soon enough Sherlock was sobbing and wailing. He was barely able to move.

Mycroft reached up and undid the gag. Sherlock’s jaw cracked and he licked his swollen lips. Mycroft moved forward and kissed him. All the time he steadily fucked him. He had to concentrate very hard not to come too soon. Once he even pulled his own testicles to stop himself from coming. He wanted this to last for a very long time.

Both of them were sweating all over. Mycroft felt very exhausted and when he looked down in his brother’s face, he realised he was barely able to keep his eyes open.  
Once again Mycroft started to fuck him faster. In a wild rhythm he pushed and pushed inside Sherlock who felt it coming, felt it building up. His balls constricted and he let out a throaty and raw shout. He came all over his stomach and chest, Mycroft’s hand, and body. He even shot some up to his own face.  
Mycroft felt him clench and come and continued to push. When he saw Sherlock lick the cum off his lips, he threw his head back and came, too. He shot loads of cum into his little brother and trembled. Very slowly he let himself down and rested on Sherlock.  
Sherlock in the meantime tried to unfold his long legs from under his brother but he was too weak.  
“Mycroft, please move a bit. My legs are cramping. Please?” He just rolled off making a displeased noise.  
“OK, Sherly. Better now?” He looked to the side and saw his brother's legs were trembling. Lazily he reached over and rubbed them. His eyes wandered over his brother’s body, over the cum-covered belly and chest up to his face. Swollen ruby lips, red heated skin, fluttering eyelids. Still panting open-mouthed.

And then he saw his wrists. Raw and bloody. He had chafed them open while struggling. Blood ran down his arms. This made Mycroft jump off the bed swearing.  
“Fuck, Sherlock! What did I ask you to do? Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you stop me? Fuck!” Sherlock just looked at him clearly having no idea what he was talking about.  
“What is it, Mycroft? What did I do wrong? I am sorry! Whatever I did, I am sorry. Please? Come back!” He watched him return with the first-aid kit and a bowl of warm water. He pulled at the ropes and at once they fell off. And only then Sherlock saw what happened. His eyes widened.  
“See what I mean?” Sherlock’s arms just fell down on the pillow. He wasn’t able to hold them up or move. Mycroft pulled him up so he sat against the headrest. Gently he took one wrist into his hands.  
“I am so sorry, Sherly. I didn’t take care enough. I did not see.” Sherlock hissed when Mycroft cleaned the wound.  
“No, Mycroft. Don’t be sad. I am fine. I had the fucking best time of my life! This is only skin and blood. Who cares?” Mycroft had to smile.  
“Yes, yes, I know. Your body is just transport, right?”  
“Exactly!”  
“But be aware of the fact you can use your beautiful transport to reach whatever goal you want. People will give you anything when you play it right.” Sherlock stared at his brother. He had called him beautiful. He wallowed in it. He felt so good, so bloody good. But then he just had to ask.  
“Is this how you got your job?” Mycroft shrugged.  
“I did a lot to get this job. I slept with people. I know about people’s secrets. I am dangerous. People do what I want them to do. I have power.”  
“That’s what you always wanted, isn’t it?”  
“No, what I always wanted is right here in front of me in my bed.” He gently applied some cream on Sherlock’s wrists and bandaged them. Only then he would look back into his face. Sherlock sceptically looked back.  
“Are you having doubts? Why won’t you look at me? You have to tell me, if I did it wrong. I can’t do it better, if you don’t tell me. You … I …”  
“The only doubts I have are regarding me, Sherlock. I hurt you. Like our … You are bleeding. You did nothing wrong. I did. I am afraid this will be too much too soon for you. I don’t want to scare you away. I need you!” Sherlock heaved himself up paying no attention to his wounded wrists. He knew what Mycroft had wanted to say but it wasn't true. He could never act like their damn father.  
“Stop talking nonsense, Mycroft! I have a safeword. I could have used it. I just didn’t. I was aware of my pain, I didn’t mind. I felt great! I still feel great. Please don’t send me away. Please?” Panic showed in his eyes when his fingers curled around his brother’s arm.  
“Fuck, Sherlock! You are only sixteen years old. Considering the data, I have raped my underage brother!”  
“But I consented!”  
“I fucking tied you to my bed!”  
“I loved it!”  
“You waited for me all these years and the only thing I could do was hurting you!” Mycroft’s voice was very small. He started to pack the things back into the first-aid kit.

Sherlock had no idea what he could do to make him feel better. He saw he had doubts, that he hurt and was ashamed of what had happened. He tried to make it better.  
“I waited for you all these years because I was convinced you were the only one worthy to be with me. I love you with all my heart, Mycroft. I will always love you. I don’t have doubts. You gave me a fantastic first time. I will never forget. Please don’t give up now.” Mycroft still wouldn’t look up again. Instead his fingers clutched the duvet.  
“I don’t know what to do, don’t know what’s right.”  
“This is. I need you, Mycroft. Please stop tormenting yourself! Come here!” Sherlock pulled him close and hugged him. He placed kisses all over his face and body. His hands caressed his skin. It took some time until Mycroft was able to relax. Sherlock could feel it and assertively pressed him down until he was flat on his back.  
Sherlock knelt by his side and looked down. He sat on his heels and used both of his hands to caress his brother. Mycroft clearly enjoyed these administrations and sighed.  
“Thank you, Sherlock.” They locked eyes and Sherlock raised his eyebrows.  
“What for?”  
“For giving yourself to me! For still loving me! For everything!” A single tear ran down his face and Sherlock moved his thumb over it to wipe it away.  
“Stop worrying now! Everything is fine, you have to believe me!”  
“Will you tell me about the dream you were having?”  
“It’s bloody ridiculous!”  
“Never mind, I’d like to hear it!”  
“OK, I am awake anyway and couldn’t ever go to sleep again right now. Actually, I am thirsty, too. And since you are offering nothing, I have to help myself. You are such a bad host, Mycroft!” One second Mycroft really looked shocked but then he grinned.  
“You almost got me, Sherly! Let’s get up and find something to drink; whatever you want!”  
“I want some water. I want some more red wine. It was delicious!”  
“Agreed!”


	8. Chapter Eight - Problems

The real problems began when Mycroft started to be very busy in his minor position with the British government. He was abroad for weeks, sometimes even months, and couldn’t take Sherlock with him. They sometimes couldn’t see each other for a very long time and Sherlock soon became bored. He also was very lonely. He was without love.

He found his own solution to escape his boredom. He started using drugs. Heroin, cocaine, whatever he could get his fingers on and promised to be exciting, he took it.

Mycroft had taken care of his living situation. He paid for his rent and other expenses. For a long time, he had no idea of Sherlock’s drug abuse. He sadly found out one day when he opened the door to Sherlock’s apartment and found him lying in his own vomit on the floor. Eyes like needle pins, barely breathing and dirty as hell.  
Mycroft didn’t think but acted and called help. He didn’t call an ambulance. Instead he called a trusted doctor who took Sherlock into rehab to detox.

Sherlock was suffering badly. He yelled, screamed, and hit the doctors and nurses. He was cuffed to the bed and finally was sedated to prevent hurting himself and others.

***

After rehab he took Sherlock into his town-house. Months had passed since Sherlock’s last stay. Neither was happy with the situation. Sherlock wouldn’t talk. Finally, Mycroft just pressed a drink into his hand and sat on the armrest of his chair.  
“Please talk to me, Sherly. I would like to know what happened. What did I do wrong?” Sherlock looked up and slowly shook his head.  
“You did nothing wrong, Mycroft. I was so bored and lonely. Alone. I didn’t know what to do. Drugs were the only things helping. I missed you. You didn’t send any riddles I could solve. You wouldn’t see me. You wouldn’t fuck me.”  
“I thought I explained my current situation to you very thorough. I am sorry I wasn’t able to entertain you adequately. I had no idea that you would behave so utterly wrong!”  
“Punish me! I need it. I need you!” Sherlock looked so desperate when he tried to pull Mycroft close. But he wouldn’t have it.  
“No, Sherlock. You are grown-up now. I can’t be there for you all the time. Find yourself a job!”  
“What job could I possibly find?”  
“Think!” Both of them had another drink. Mycroft paced the room.  
“You like to solve riddles. Why don’t you solve unsolved crimes?” Sherlock looked a bit interested.  
“How would I do that? I would need access into Scotland Yard. They have my records, Mycroft. I am a drug addict. They won’t let me inside.”  
“I would help.”  
“How?” He shrugged nonchalantly.  
“I know people. I happen to know a certain Inspector at the Yard. I will talk to him tomorrow.”  
“May I stay? Please? You don’t have to touch me if you don’t want. But I would like to stay here. Please?”  
“You know, you are welcome here at any time, Sherlock. You may even sleep in my bed. You are welcome here as long as you are clean. Do you hear me?”  
“Yes. As long as I am here, I won’t need drugs.” Finally, Mycroft nodded.  
“OK then. You may stay as long as you like. I won’t have to go away for some time. But I won’t sleep with you until you are tested. Got that?” Sherlock almost cried.  
“I never used any dirty needles. I never offered my body for drugs. Of course, it would have been the easy way but instead I sold stuff.”  
“What stuff exactly?” He shrugged.  
“Clothes, pictures, advice …” Mycroft raised his eyebrows.  
“Advice as in?”  
“Advice as in telling them the truth about their husbands and wives or writing their essays at university.”  
“I see. And they gave you money.”  
“Yes.”  
“Well, I see you need to shake your brain cells. I will help you.” Sherlock looked very sad.  
“Just don’t abandon me. Please! I need you. I love you.” Mycroft was shocked.  
“I would never abandon you! How could you think that? I need you as much as you need me. And you bloody well know I love you!” He grabbed Sherlock’s shoulders and pulled him close. Sherlock’s arms hesitantly came up and barely touched him. Mycroft buried his face in the crook of his neck and shoulder. He murmured:  
“Please, Sherlock. I love you. I miss you, too. Don’t do this to me, please?”  
“I promise, I try my very best. I don’t want to disappoint you. But I am getting mad and restless when there is nothing going on.”  
“I will talk to the Yard tomorrow. First thing in the morning I will make an appointment, so we can meet up. The Inspector would want proof of your instinct and talent which should be no problem, right?” Sherlock shook his head.  
“Of course not. I only need the file and time to read it. Should be done quickly.”  
“Very good, Sherlock. I am glad you approve of my idea.” Thoughtful he still looked at his younger brother who cleared his dry throat feeling watched.  
“There is more, am I right?” Mycroft nodded.  
“Yes, actually there is another idea going through my mind.” Sherlock was a bit scared.  
“What is it? What do you want me to do?”  
“I was thinking that maybe living on your own isn’t such a good idea. You need a flatmate.”  
“A flatmate! You mean someone who watches me and reports to you?” He shrugged.  
“Well, sort of?”  
“If it makes you happy, Mycroft, I will have a flatmate. I do anything not to be bored.”  
“Are you sure?” Sherlock wondered.  
“Living with a boring flatmate could be boring, too.”  
“Then you have to make sure you find yourself a non-boring flatmate.”  
“Where the fuck should I find a non-boring flatmate?”  
“Let’s go to the yard first. Then we’ll see about everything else. Agreed?”  
“Agreed.”


	9. Chapter Nine - New Scotland Yard

Sherlock slept through the night. He was close to Mycroft again. He was in his bed. He was able to smell him and listen to his quiet breathing. He had very carefully planted his palm on his waist.

Last night he had pleaded as long as it took to get Mycroft to sing a song for him. Finally, he gave in and sung so he could fall asleep. Now he was awake and waited for Mycroft to get up, too. The Yard was waiting. He had to admit, he was excited. Something new was happening and it promised to be not boring.  
Finally, Mycroft began to move and mumble. Sherlock let go at once and sat up against the headrest. He watched him turn around and open his eyes. As soon as his eyes met Sherlock’s a bright smile shone on his face and Sherlock’s guts coiled. Mycroft slowly sat up and took his hand.  
“How do you feel?” Sherlock looked at their entwined fingers.  
“A bit shaky, but fine so far. Just give me some coffee and it will be OK.”  
“We will have a proper breakfast. Go and have a shower and I will call the Inspector.”  
“I am not hungry.” Mycroft just sighed. And then his whole stance changed. His voice was sharp.  
“You will eat something! If I have to tie you to the chair and force-feed you, I will do it!” A challenge. Sherlock looked up and his eyes were bright when he stated:  
“I am not hungry! I only want coffee!” Mycroft had to act now and he knew it. Sherlock had forced him into this. He should have known better. Now he had no choice but to do what he had threatened.  
“Kitchen! Now!” Sherlock quickly got up and hurried along. Mycroft followed suit. Sherlock stopped in the middle of the room and turned around. He licked his lips. He wasn't bored.  
“Where do you want me?” He was bloody excited and it clearly showed.  
“Sit on the chair with your hands behind it.” Quickly he did what being told. Mycroft rummaged through the cupboards and got some ropes out. He tied Sherlock’s wrists behind the chair's back.  
He pulled him forward so his bum was on the edge and his back was strained. Mycroft wound more rope around his ankles and tied them to the chair's back legs. His body was stretched out and he quietly moaned. He was hard. Mycroft could see his erected prick through the fabric of his pyjamas.  
“Sherlock, this is not for your pleasure!” And he reached between his legs and hardly pulled at his testicles. Sherlock whined and protested.  
“Don't! Please! I need it, I need you! Please?!” But Mycroft shook his head no.  
“Stop whining like a baby, Sherlock! I will feed you breakfast now. Just eat!” But Sherlock was stubborn and pressed his lips together. Mycroft sighed and slapped him hard.  
“Open up!” Just a look out of burning eyes. Mycroft got the spider-gag and pressed his fingers into Sherlock's face to force his mouth open. He shoved the gag inside and buckled it tight. Tighter as necessary. He saw Sherlock's eyes water but showed no mercy. Next, he wound a rope around his neck and tied it to the chair. Now Sherlock was barely able to move.  
Mycroft looked down and saw he was hard again. He walked over to the fridge and got an ice-pack. Sherlock made noises but Mycroft wouldn't listen. Instead he taped the pack over his groin. Finally, he adjusted the gag opening his mouth wider.  
“Well, well. Now you are ready. Let's have breakfast then.” Mycroft toasted some slices of bread and let them cool. He made four and buttered them thickly. He made one with Marmite, one with jam, one with honey and one with sugar. Sherlock needed to gain some weight. He also made omelette. While it cooked, he parted the bread into small pieces and stood beside his brother.  
“I know how much you can take, Sherlock. I know how far down your throat I can shove my cock. You will not choke or cough.” Sherlock's eyes were wide and he gurgled out a reply.  
Mycroft started to feed him the bread. He shoved them deep down and Sherlock just had to swallow. Tears were running down his face but he swallowed everything. When the bread was gone Mycroft let him drink. Then he fed him the scrambled eggs. He drank more.  
“I need to teach you a lesson. You still don't know what's good for you. I want you to remember this.” He got a funnel and placed it inside his mouth. He poured the water down. Sherlock managed a lot but finally had to cough. Mycroft saw his filled-out belly, stopped at once and just left the kitchen.  
Sherlock belched after him but he just left. Sherlock bucked to get rid of the ice-pack but it was taped tight. If he was honest to himself, he felt good. The food had been good.  
He also had an idea about the lesson Mycroft wanted to teach him.  
He already felt his bladder. He hadn't been to the bathroom this morning. He had hurried into the kitchen to obey. Now he badly needed to pee. He knew Mycroft wouldn't come back to untie him in time. So, he tried to prevent it but since he wasn't able to press his legs together or even touch his prick, he had it coming. He held it back for a long time. It hurt, he was cramping and moaning and sweating. But finally, he just let go. He peed into his pyjamas and felt it warmly running down his legs. A puddle was forming beneath the chair.  
He felt relaxed now and started to cry again. He was still sobbing when Mycroft returned.  
“I will untie you now. You will clean this up and shower. I phoned the yard. We will be leaving in an hour. So, you'll better hurry.” He unbuckled the gag and undid the ropes. Sherlock sagged into the chair but was handed both a bucket and mop. He was shaking but stood. Mycroft just watched for a minute but when he saw him starting to clean the floor he left.

***

Sherlock knew Mycroft had been right. But he needed him to do these things to him. He was hot and ashamed but he was also thankful. Most of all he wasn't bored.

When he left the shower, Mycroft had laid out some new clothes for him. He felt excited. He stood in front of the mirror and buttoned his shirt. He looked nice.  
Mycroft entered the room and saw Sherlock in front of the mirror. Their eyes met and Sherlock turned around.  
“Thank you, Mycroft, thank you. I feel much better now. I am sorry I behaved childish.”  
“It's fine, Sherlock. I know you want me. And I want you, too. But you need to be clean.”  
“Do you still love me?”  
“What kind of question is this?”  
“I had doubts yesterday. I know, I disappointed you a lot. I would understand.”  
“I love you! I want to help you. I don't have any doubts regarding you.” Mycroft knew he had to tell him these things over and over. Sherlock needed to hear he was loved. His childhood had been one without love. Instead he was hurt over and over both physically and psychologically.  
What his brother could give him, hadn't been enough for the little child.  
“You are too good, Mycroft. I am so, so sorry. I will try my very best, will try to be better.”  
“I know, Sherlock, I know.” They looked at each other and Sherlock came closer.  
“Who is this Inspector you were talking to?” Mycroft smiled.  
“He has potential. I like him; I have to admit that.”  
“I am excited. He must be someone special.”  
“Be assured he is. Come on now, it's time.” Sherlock followed him and they drove to Scotland Yard. Mycroft entered the building as it was a normal thing to do. Sherlock trailed behind. He followed him into the elevator and over the aisle. People were watching them but Sherlock didn't care. Mycroft entered an office cube and closed the door behind them.  
They were met by a gorgeous looking man with greying hair. He looked as he hadn't slept for days.  
“Inspector Lestrade, it's good to see you!” Mycroft greeted him.  
“Mr Holmes, it's good to see you, too!” Both of them smiled almost sheepishly. Sherlock looked between them and knew. Mycroft was attracted to him and surprisingly it was OK for him. Inspector Lestrade seemed to be a really nice guy, he was good looking and he felt the urge to move forward.  
“I am Sherlock, Mycroft's brother. He phoned you this morning about me helping you.” He reached out for him. Lestrade looked a bit surprised but took his hand.  
“Gregory Lestrade. Nice to meet you, Sherlock. I have prepared some case files for you. If you need a quiet place to read through them?” He gestured over the papers but Sherlock shook his head.  
“No, it won't be necessary. I can sit here, if it's OK. Or would you two like some time alone?” Mycroft coughed.  
“Sherlock!” He looked up.  
“What? It's rather obvious. You like each other.” Mycroft nodded and they left Sherlock behind with all the files. He sat on Greg's chair and placed his feet on the desk as soon as Mycroft and Greg had left the office.  
He went through all the files and scribbled his remarks and notes on post-its. Most of them were bloody obvious and he sighed. But two of them needed more. He got up and scribbled on the white board. He paced in front of it with his fingers under his chin. Thinking.

***

Mycroft and Greg returned after three hours and found Sherlock typing on Greg's computer.  
“Oi, this one was secured!” Gregory shoved Sherlock away.  
“Not anymore. The password was obvious.” Sherlock rolled back with the chair. He looked at Lestrade who looked at all the case files. Then Lestrade looked back at Sherlock.  
“You did go through all of them, didn't you?” Sherlock shrugged.  
“Yes, I did. I also used your white board for the two real interesting cases. They needed a few minutes more. But I solved them, too. For only one I would like to see the corpse, if possible?” Lestrade swallowed and looked at Mycroft who nodded reassuringly.  
“Well, I think it's OK. Just follow me.” Mycroft stayed behind and Lestrade took Sherlock into the morgue. They just stood in the cold room and Lestrade called out.  
“Dr Hooper? It's Inspector Lestrade! You here?” A tiny voice answered.  
“I am here, I just dropped it, I will be right with you!” Then a mousy person appeared from down below. She had been under a stretcher and they just hadn't seen her. She looked at Sherlock and her eyes widened.  
Sherlock had seen that look before. She was attracted to him and so was Lestrade. He inwardly sighed. But he knew he had to be friendly to gain access to the morgue in the future. He needed to be kind even though he wanted to tell her about her clothes (too grey), her lipstick (too bright) and her hair (too simple). Instead he just smiled and approached her.  
“Hello, my name is Sherlock Holmes. I am helping the Inspector here. I hope you could show me the corpse of case file no. 72658?” He put on a bright smile and she was stunned.  
“Yes, of course. Inspector Lestrade?” He nodded and gestured his OK. She pulled out the stretcher and lifted off the sheet. Sherlock looked very close pulling a magnifying glass out of his coat.  
“Fucking obvious ...” He just mumbled and dashed out of the morgue.  
“Thank you, Dr Hooper.” Lestrade followed him and Dr Hooper stared after them.


	10. Chapter Ten - The Reward

Mycroft was extremely happy and so was Sherlock. They sat in Mycroft's living room and had drinks.  
“You liked this, didn't you?” Mycroft looked at Sherlock.  
“Yes, it was exciting. Lestrade is such a nice person and so is Dr Hooper. Even though she looks boring, she is a very good pathologist. She knows stuff and so does Lestrade. What did he say about me solving his files anyway?”  
“He was very impressed, so he told me. And he is very thankful. He wants you back to help him on cases. He even wants you on crime scenes. But you know what you have to do for it, don't you?”  
“Yes, I do. And you know I have been clean the whole time I stayed with you. I am not bored. When can I go back to the yard?”  
“Any time you want. Lestrade has tons of unsolved cases.” Sherlock happily crunched some cookies.  
“I liked it a lot. I liked the morgue and Dr Hooper, too. I want to go back and work with them.”  
“I so hoped for this to happen, Sherlock. Here, this is a mobile for you. It enables you to go online and text and phone people. I took the freedom to safe some numbers and URL's on it you might find useful.” Sherlock carefully took it and turned it around in his hands.  
“Thank you!” He looked at Mycroft who just bent over and kissed him. Sherlock closed his eyes and happily enjoyed his brother's kisses.  
“I have the latest test results.” Sherlock's eyes widened and his lips opened.  
“You mean ...” Mycroft smiled and nodded.  
“Yes, I mean I want to fuck you. But I also need to tell you, I need to leave again. I avoided this for weeks but now the time is over.” Sherlock swallowed.  
“I won't be bored ...” Both of them smiled.  
Sherlock got up and walked over to his brother. He looked at him and fell down on his knees. He folded his hands on his nape and looked on the ground. He waited.  
Mycroft looked at his younger brother and was proud. He had trained him well. Now he wanted to make it good for him.  
“You may tell me what you want.” Sherlock closed his eyes and only needed to think about it for a few seconds.  
“Sir, please, I need you. I would like you to tie me up, blindfold and gag me, whip me, hurt me. I want to feel you inside of me. Make me scream. Please?!” Only then he looked up. Mycroft just stared licking his lips.  
“Fuck, Sherlock. You are incredible!” He reached out and grabbed some strands of his hair. He pulled him close. Sherlock didn't lose his stance. Mycroft unzipped his trousers and stood close.  
“Suck me, Sherlock! Now! Don't use your hands! Go on!” Sherlock moved his head forward and used his tongue to get to Mycroft's prick. Finally, it peeked out and leaked. Sherlock straightened and closed his full lips around the head. He sucked him in and licked around the head pressing his tongue into the slit.  
His hands still were on his nape when he moved forward forcing Mycroft's cock deep inside. His brother didn't move. Sherlock did and bopped his head. Mycroft's prick reached his throat and he swallowed. He also hummed and felt his brother tremble.  
He increased his speed and closed his eyes. He sucked, swallowed, licked, and repeated it. He listened to his brother's noises and felt his dick thickening.  
Mycroft looked down at his younger brother and felt being close. He threw his head back and moaned:  
“Sherlock ...” His prick twitched and Sherlock straightened a bit more. And then he came deep down his brother's throat. Sherlock swallowed everything and licked him clean afterwards. Then he looked up again.  
Mycroft knew what to do.  
“Get up and into the bedroom! Kneel there! Hands stay where they are!” Sherlock got up and swayed a bit. But he went into the bedroom and fell down again. His hands didn't leave his nape. His eyes were closed and he panted. He was hard.  
Mycroft stepped up behind. His hand went up and rested on his head. He grabbed into his full locks and pulled his head back. Sherlock moaned and his head was pressed on his brother's groin feeling him pulse. Again.  
Sherlock looked up and whispered:  
“Please, Mycroft.” He bit his lips.  
“I am sorry, Sir. Please, Sir? Please have me, please hurt me. Just please?”  
“Oh God, what you are doing to me! Stay right there!” Mycroft dashed around the room grabbing things. He stood behind Sherlock and ordered.  
“Get up and lower your hands.” Sherlock did as being told and his brother tied his wrists on his lower back. Sherlock quietly moaned. Then his arms were tied and his shoulders were strained. Mycroft moved and stood in front of him. He ripped his shirt open and teased his nipples.  
Soon enough he had him on his front and his ankles and knees and thighs were tightly bound, too. He pulled his ankles up meeting his wrists and bound them together. He shoved a ball-gag between his lips and buckled it tight. He also blindfolded him.  
He watched his brother wiggle and sob while his foot touched his prick and balls. He did that for a few minutes until he moved him back on his front. He ordered him to stay; not to rut.  
Mycroft pulled down his trousers and pants as much as he could. Sherlock felt his brother's fingers around his prick and balls. He wound rope around them and pulled his prick back to his wrists. He also tied his balls. Sherlock whined. He drooled and his jaw hurt badly. He enjoyed deeply when he felt his brother's fingers around his cock.  
His legs trembled and soon he would cramp. He made wanton noises and Mycroft pulled the rope connecting his cock to his wrists. Sherlock keened and shook.  
Mycroft took the riding crop and started to hit him on his shoulders, his back and his behind. Finally, he concentrated on the soles of his feet. He was thinking of restraining him more. He was still able to move a bit too much. The suppressed screaming was nice though. Mycroft smiled and dropped the crop. Sherlock was sobbing and snot ran down over the ball-gag and chin. But he was also still hard, Mycroft could clearly see it. He wound his long fingers around Sherlock's cock and gently pressed. Sherlock's whole body convulsed and he was making high-pitched shrieking noises.  
Mycroft tied his toes together and pulled him up into a kneeling position after having removed the rope between Sherlock's ankles and wrists. He tied his calves and thighs together. He also clamped his nipples and adjusted the screws tightly. Sherlock howled and already sounded rather throaty.  
Mycroft's thumb moved over his face and wiped the tears away which were already leaking out from under the blindfold. Sherlock leant into the touch and panted. He was sweating badly and the muscles around his mouth and jaw were shaking. He clearly was in pain but he didn't safeword. Mycroft checked his hands and fingers several times.  
Sherlock was kneeling upright but Mycroft pulled his head down by his longish hair until his forehead touched the hardwood floor.  
“Stay!” He quietly ordered and Sherlock settled his arse in the air presenting it. Mycroft picked up the riding crop again and his strokes hit his cheeks and thighs. Sherlock screamed when Mycroft crossed the welts from the beating before.  
Mycroft only stopped when more welts were blooming and blood was running down his behind and over his thighs dropping on the floor.  
Only then he started to untie him except for the rope around his wrists and the blindfold. Sherlock's lips were parted, swollen and red. He was still on the floor. Mycroft took his arm and pulled him up. He swayed but stood in front of Mycroft who pressed their lips together. He kissed him deep and dirty. Sherlock moaned and shook in his grip. When Mycroft let go, he roughly whispered:  
“Please! I can't bear it anymore! Please, have me! I beg you, please!” Mycroft had a closer look and saw how exhausted he was. He undid the rope around his wrists and took the blindfold away, too. He gently led him over to the bed and placed him on his back on the duvet.  
He followed right away and spread his legs. Tenderly he moved his palms over his skin and kissed him everywhere. Sherlock's body shook and trembled and he was moaning almost constantly.  
Mycroft took his prick and tenderly stroked it. Sherlock sobbed and his hands fluttered. Mycroft knelt between his spread legs and lubed his fingers. One finger was just sucked in by Sherlock's willing body. The second took a bit more but Sherlock moved. His damp hair clung to his head and sweat shone all over his body.  
Mycroft spread his fingers and opened him up. Sherlock was barely able to move but he quietly sobbed and moaned and made noises. He wasn't able to speak. His eyes were half closed but he still watched his older brother. He found the strength to buck up once and his eyes pleaded.  
Mycroft removed his fingers and watched his stretched-out hole. It clenched around nothing and he quickly lubed his cock. He moved closer and just pushed inside. Sherlock howled. Mycroft started to move and push rubbing over Sherlock's prostate with every single move. He felt him clench and it didn't take him long until he came. He panted resting on his brother.  
Sherlock felt him shoot his cum into him, clenched and came. He shortly focused on Mycroft and then his eyes fell shut.  
Mycroft watched him come and pulled him up and into his arms. He stroked his hair out of his face and held him close against his chest. He felt him relax against his body and looked down. His head lolled and his eyes were closed. He tenderly carded through his hair.  
“Sherlock? You OK?” But he got no reply. Sherlock's head just slid down and he was gone.


	11. Chapter Eleven - The Change

Mycroft left Sherlock for another mission but he was sure, everything would go smoothly. He let him stay in his town-house and had asked Lestrade to regularly look after him.  
Sherlock seemed to be happy working with Lestrade. He trailed after him as much as he could. He was looking at cold cases and after some weeks of work together, Lestrade allowed him on his crime scenes. Sherlock was happy. Lestrade was happy because Mycroft was.  
Three times a week Lestrade came over and they had dinner together. They talked about crimes and cases. Lestrade was fascinated by Sherlock and how fast he was analysing and thinking through everything.  
Sherlock liked Lestrade. He also knew Lestrade was attracted to him. He wondered if Mycroft would be angry if he slept with him. He had to find out. So, one day he was expecting him over for dinner and he was only dressed in fatigues which hung low on his hips. Lestrade had a key anyway, so he placed himself strategically in the middle of the living-room in front of the fire so his wiry body was illuminated by the warm light. He ruffled his hair and listened to Lestrade walking over.  
“Sherlock?” He smiled and replied.  
“Living-room, Lestrade!” He looked at him when he entered the room. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Sherlock. He just stared which actually was not very polite, but he couldn't help it. He unconsciously licked his lips and his cock twitched with interest.  
“Sherlock, what ...” Sherlock slowly walked over and seductively whispered:  
“Are you two exclusive?” Lestrade swallowed and shook his head.  
“No, not really. What ...” But Sherlock just pulled him close and kissed him. He was a bit taller than Lestrade and he forced his mouth open. At once he started to fuck him with his tongue. Lestrade didn't do anything; he only melted against Sherlock.  
Sherlock wondered if Lestrade knew about Mycroft and him, knew about their relationship. He was a policeman after all and incestuous things were strongly illegal. But his brother had power and Lestrade liked him. Sherlock knew they were fucking because his brother had asked him. Sherlock was OK with it. He was curious about the dynamics between them; between Lestrade and Mycroft as well as Lestrade and himself.

And now he had Lestrade in his arms. He wanted to gather new experiences with the man. He was a bottom or so Mycroft had told him. But Sherlock was a bottom, too. Now he had the chance to top, see if he would like it. Perhaps Greg would like to top, too? Should he ask?  
Sherlock looked down into dilated pupils and he simply grabbed Greg's wrists with his large hand. He pressed on the bones and the move made Greg groan. Sherlock also felt his erection against his thigh.  
“Isn't this a bit greedy, Detective Inspector? What do you think about this naughty behaviour?” Sherlock smirked.  
“Oh, you bastard. Do something, do me. From what I have been told, you are a magician in bed.” He stared into Sherlock's eyes.  
Sherlock raised a brow. So, his brother talked about him and in a good way, it seemed. Warmth rushed through him and the smirk became a smile.  
“You have no idea.” He moved Lestrade over to an armchair where he had prepared some toys. He forced him on his knees and pressed him chest down onto the leather. He picked up a pair of heavy handcuffs connected by a metal-bar and not a chain. He closed them around his wrists.  
“Spread your legs.” He quietly ordered and watched him obey. He reached between them and pinched his cock. He liked the noises Lestrade made.  
He yanked him up and roughly pulled his trousers and pants down. The shoes were kicked to the side. Sherlock looked at the man's prick out in the open. It was different from his brother's and his own. He slid a cock-ring over it and parted his balls.  
Sherlock slowly opened his trousers and presented his cock. Lestrade eyed it with a certain hunger in his eyes. They locked eyes and Greg knew what Sherlock wanted. He also gave it to him by going back on his knees again.  
“Please, may I suck your cock? Sir?” He licked his lips and Sherlock felt his spine tingle.  
“Of course you may. Be my guest.” He smirked again but soon enough groaned when the DI threw himself on his prick. His hands were holding the man's head and his fingers rubbed over his scalp. Once and again he forced him close and deep making him choke.  
He let go when he was hot and hard. Lestrade looked confused. Sherlock knew that look.  
“Don't fret. I don't want to come just now.” Realisation dawned on the DI's features and he relaxed. Sherlock picked up a ball-gag and buckled it tight. Lestrade groaned.  
He also hooked a chain to the handcuffs and put cuffs on his ankles, too. He pulled the chain as tight as possible.  
Lestrade still had his shirt on but now Sherlock knelt opposite of him on the hardwood and slowly opened one button after the other.  
“You have a wonderful body, Detective Inspector. It surely gives me a lot of pleasure to administer a special treatment.” Lestrade groaned and bubbles of saliva formed at the edges of his mouth.  
Sherlock rubbed over his nipples and pulled them with his teeth. Lestrade shook and drooled. Finally, he clamped them and screwed them tight. Little weights hung down and swung with every movement. Greg panted. His prick looked dark and angry. Sherlock was fascinated.  
He was torn out of his plans because his mobile dinged with a text alert. Actually, it was a whipping sound and he picked it up quickly.

_“Do not break him.”  
MH_

Sherlock raised a brow and bit his lower lip while typing his reply.

_“I won't. Promise. He is really enjoying this. So am I.”  
SH_

He quickly took a picture and sent it, too.

_“I am thinking about a session with you two. Expect me home a tiny bit earlier.”  
MH_

_“Can't wait, brother-dear.”  
SH_

Sherlock smiled and placed the mobile back on the mantle. He turned around and met Greg's wide eyes. They were so different from his brother's. Dark brown. Chocolate. Sherlock could see what his brother saw. Of course he could.  
“Now I will enjoy your body, Detective Inspector.” He took off the chain and the cuffs around his ankles. Then he helped him up. He swayed for a few seconds but Sherlock held him safely. He heavily drooled and his head hung low for a bit.  
Sherlock quickly placed some blankets in front of the fire-place and led Lestrade over. Since this was Mycroft's place there were hooks and rings all over. The handcuffs came to the front and were fastened over his head. He rested on his back and expectantly looked up at Sherlock.  
“Pull up your legs.” Sherlock roughly whispered and knelt between them. Greg did as being told and Sherlock got the lube out of his pocket. He used a fair amount on Lestrade's hole and his fingers and hands. He pressed his legs down and his free hand started to touch his perineum and puckered hole.  
Lestrade made noises, begging noises. Since Sherlock knew he was fucked regularly, he shoved two fingers inside at once. Greg loudly groaned and shook.  
Sherlock knew what he liked when he was beneath his brother and he repeated the action on the Detective Inspector. And like him he didn't need much preparation. Like him he liked it a bit rough.  
He aimed his cock at the DI's hole and pushed. Lestrade folded his legs around Sherlock's hips and pressed. Both men groaned. Sherlock reached up and took the gag away. He leant down and gently kissed him while he kept pushing into the man.  
Next, he blindly removed the clamps while kissing the Inspector deep and dirty. His fingers though kept teasing the nipples. And only when he was close, he took off the cock-ring. They locked eyes again and Sherlock fucked him into oblivion. He managed to make them both come at the same time. They yelled the place down and Sherlock slumped on top of Lestrade's body.

***

They stayed like this for several minutes until the DI moved his hips upwards.  
“How can such a skinny guy like you be so heavy?” He groaned and Sherlock rolled off of him.  
“Some people do like my skinny limbs.” Sherlock murmured nuzzling against Greg's warm skin.  
“You know, I actually came for dinner.” Greg's stomach rumbled.  
“And I gave you a taste beforehand, didn't I?” Sherlock grinned against his skin. Greg snorted.   
“Let me up, please? I need a drink.” Sherlock muttered something nasty but unlocked the cuffs. He even helped him up and poured drinks.  
“We probably should shower before having dinner or even sit down.” The DI said sipping his drink and Sherlock nodded. They looked at each other and laughed.  
“Absolutely. Brother-mine would get furious upon finding stains on the upholstery.” Sherlock wrinkled his nose.  
“I go first.” Greg rushed upstairs while Sherlock entered the kitchen. He had actually gone to Tesco and bought things for dinner hoping Greg would be up for cooking.  
And Greg was up. He returned and found Sherlock placing everything neatly on the counter.  
“Really?” He asked and crept closer. Sherlock shrugged and made puppy eyes.  
“Please?” Sherlock said over his shoulder when leaving for his shower. Greg just shook his head and started chopping the mushrooms. He had looked over the other things such as pasta and heavy cheese and cream and knew he could have never had this kind of dinner with Mycroft.  
He enjoyed preparing everything for Sherlock and himself. Sherlock returned freshly showered and dressed in comfy clothes holding a bottle of red wine. Greg happily nodded and handed over a spoon with sauce for Sherlock to taste.  
He took the spoon and closed his eyes in delight.  
“Wonderful! I knew you could cook.” Sherlock praised him and Greg did blush a bit. They sat down together and had dinner.  
“You know, next time we could switch?” Sherlock carefully stated looking into his glass of wine.  
“We sure could!” Lestrade looked excited already and Sherlock was pleased with himself.


	12. Chapter Twelve - The Flatmate

Mycroft had to stay away for longer. Sherlock wasn't pleased. Greg wasn't pleased, as well. Both men spent a lot of time together and not always in bed or glued to each other.

Sherlock actually worked a lot on cold cases. The Detective Inspector had given him a small place inside the Yard where he could read and scribble on an old whiteboard. The main thing was he wasn't bored. Mycroft had made himself abundantly clear when being on the phone with Greg. And Greg understood.  
He also allowed Sherlock on more crime scenes. Sherlock enjoyed all this a lot. He wondered if he could make a living with detecting. He would need to speak with Mycroft about it. He would need a place of his own again. Plus, he remembered what Mycroft had said about a flatmate. He couldn't just order one at amazon, could he?

He sighed reading through some files. Again, he needed to visit the morgue. He could have a coffee with Dr Hooper. He needed to be nice to her because he needed the morgue for an experiment. Corpses he needed.  
Mycroft wouldn't like it if he brought corpses into the basement to find out how many bruises form after death and a severe beating with his riding-crop because a man's alibi depended on it. He sighed.  
He stood and put on his coat. It was a present from Mycroft and he loved that coat. He knocked at Lestrade's door and told him he was going to the morgue and was done for the day. Lestrade was on the phone and waved good-bye.  
He was lucky because the morgue was empty. Dr Hooper wasn't in and he had the place for himself. He rubbed his hands and shed his coat. He scanned the entries and chose a relatively fresh body with a normal cause of death. He placed him chest down on a slab and took his riding-crop from his belt. Then he started to hit the corpse on the back.

Afterwards he scribbled the number of welts and strikes as well as the time into his moleskin. He longed for a coffee but Molly hasn't yet returned. Well, he knew where the machine sat and he had to go into the lab anyway.  
Right when he poured himself a mug with coffee and milk and loads of sugar the door opened and a doctor came inside. Sherlock actually knew him because he let him work here. Sherlock was thankful for that. He also was proud because he had achieved that all by himself and hadn't needed his brother's help to gain access to a modern laboratory.  
“Mike, I was in need of some coffee. I'll be off in a few. Just a minute at the microscope.” Sherlock said.  
“Never mind, Sherlock. I was just showing an old friend around. Meet Dr John Watson. John, this is Sherlock Holmes.” Both men looked at each other. They shook hands and kept holding them longer than usual.  
Also, Sherlock's spine intensely tingled when looking into the stormy blue eyes of John Watson.

***

Nothing came out of this encounter because Sherlock was too shy to ask him out. John secretly adored the beautiful, tall man but was sure he would never take a second look at him. Mike Stamford told both men at different times how stupid they were.

Sherlock told Mycroft about Dr John Watson. Mycroft checked him out and brought the file home. It was a rather thick file with many blacked out parts. Sherlock wasn't pleased and glared at his older brother.  
“You can do better than that!” He hissed and threw the folder on the hardwood. Mycroft just raised a brow and Sherlock went down on his knees to pick the papers up again.  
“You are agitated, little brother. Did the good doctor made an impression?” He smirked and Sherlock, still on his knees, blushed.  
“What if?” He quietly said sorting the documents.  
“Nothing, of course.” Mycroft shrugged.  
“He is both a soldier and a doctor. His limp is solely psychosomatic and the tremor in his hand will fade when settled again.”  
“He would be the perfect flatmate, Mycroft. He could probably be even more. He could be my own Gregory.” He looked into his brother's eyes.  
“That's what I thought exactly. And that's why I am giving you this.” He held a key-ring in his hand and held it up for Sherlock to take.  
“You trust me with my own place again?” Sherlock quietly asked folding his long fingers around the key. His hand shook a bit and he stared at Mycroft.  
“Yes, I do.” Sherlock sat back on his heels and had a stupid smile on his face. Mycroft moved up closer.  
“Get up and look at the ground plan and pictures with me?” He reached out for his little brother who took his hand.  
“Show me!” They sat in front of Mycroft's computer and scrolled through everything.  
“It has furniture already.” Sherlock murmured.  
“Yes, it has. I left everything as it was. You can decide what you want to keep. You still have all the money from our parents. I just froze it, you know that. I trust you with buying things for your new home.” He handed over a set of cards with Sherlock's name on it.  
“Mycroft...” Sherlock was in tears and was given the tissue-box.  
“We can go there tomorrow and you can see for yourself. The landlady lives on the ground floor and your rooms are upstairs. The address is 221B Baker Street.”  
“And there is another room upstairs for my soon-to-be flatmate.” Sherlock said excitedly.  
“If you be needing two bedrooms.” Mycroft smirked and Sherlock grinned.

***

The next morning the brothers had breakfast together.  
“How do you plan to find Dr Watson?” Mycroft asked.  
“By simply asking you about his whereabouts. You and CCTV know everything.” Sherlock made puppy eyes again and his older brother laughed.  
“Well, I do know about his therapist. She is stupid but he has to see her on a weekly basis due to his pension as a soldier being invalided home. You could meet him around there, just passing by, you know?” Mycroft suggested.  
“Hm...” Sherlock didn't like the idea very much.  
“Where else does he go?” He demanded to know.  
“He has a local. He sometimes goes there for a drink with your colleague Mike. He lives in a dingy bedsit in Brixton because he has no money.”  
“So, if I am offering him a place in Baker Street, he will deny me because he could never ever pay the rent.” Sherlock huffed.  
“Then tell him to pay whatever he can and that it will be just fine. He will be happy to oblige.”  
“I believe it may be a bit too much, if I pay him a visit in his rooms. I will just bump into him after he leaves his therapist.” Sherlock nodded to himself stirring his coffee.  
“Very well. Let's go and have a look at your flat, shall we?”

***

Sherlock was happy. He loved his new place. He even liked the furniture that had been left behind. It suited him. There was a decent sized kitchen and bath, a big living-room overlooking Baker Street, his bedroom, and the other room upstairs. Sherlock would use some of his money to make it a proper place for John.  
Everything was perfect and even the landlady, Mrs Hudson, was nice. He liked her at once and she liked him, too. She offered tea and cookies right away and Sherlock was happily accepting.  
He rubbed his hands leaning against the door.  
“Mycroft, how can I ever thank you for this?” Mycroft lovingly looked at his younger brother.  
“You know very well how.” Sherlock smiled and tilted his head.  
“Tonight.” He mouthed and blew his brother a kiss.  
“I expect you to be extra perfect for me tonight.” Mycroft tried to look stern but failed.  
“I will give my very best. Sir.” Sherlock roughly whispered and the brothers stared into each other's eyes. The self-control won though because they were out in the open.  
“Come on then. Let's go home.” Mycroft walked past and opened the door. Sherlock took a last glance at his flat smiling all over his face. Only then he quickly followed his brother down the stairs and into his car to be driven home.  
Mycroft shoved his brother directly into his bedroom because he didn't want to wait. And only when he had him naked on his knees with ropes crossing over his body, he told him they wouldn't be alone.  
“What do you mean, Mycroft?” Sherlock was a bit shocked and he forgot about the respect. At once Mycroft snatched his ear and pulled hard. Tears shot into Sherlock's eyes when he followed the pull as best as he could.  
“Pardon me, boy?” His brother hissed.  
“Forgive me, Sir. I won't forget the proper honorific again, Sir. But you never... I am sorry, Sir.” Mycroft let go and looked serious.  
“You do know I would never bring in someone you wouldn't approve of, don't you?” Sherlock's heart was beating fast but his trust in his brother was endless.  
“Of course I do know that, Sir. I trust you with my life, Sir.” He tilted his head up and Mycroft kissed him.  
“Very well. Let me know if you consent. Would you like the third person into the game?” His brother asked and right then it dawned on Sherlock who the third person was. And he nodded.  
“I consent, Sir.” Sherlock's voice was clear and strong and Mycroft smiled.  
“Very good. Stand up and hold still.” Sherlock obediently stood still while his brother picked up a leather deprivation mask. Sherlock licked his lips and became excited. Mycroft though ignored his cock and pulled the mask over his head. He pulled the strings tight and adjusted the tiny holes for oxygen over his nose. He closed it around his neck and locked the buckle. Next came the blindfold over his eyes and it got locked tight, too. Sherlock was blind now.  
He felt his brother fumble at the side of his head where smaller openings had been hidden. He pressed a pair of ear-buds inside and at once white noise began to torment Sherlock's brain. His legs started to shift until a hand landed heavily on his behind.  
Sherlock stopped moving but panted heavily. Mycroft had never done such a thing to him.  
He also knew what came last and right he was. A penis-shaped gag was shoved between his lips and almost reached his throat. His tongue was pressed down. The bloody thing was huge. The last buckle was locked and Sherlock was lost inside his head.  
He felt his brother close by but no one else. A light push on his lower back told him to move. Carefully he made a few steps until he was leaning against a wall. His wrists were tied to it as was the d-ring behind his neck. A spreader-bar parted his long legs.  
Then he was left alone.  
Sherlock moved his head and shifted with the bar around his ankles. No reprimanding was being made and Sherlock groaned. He shook his head but was held back by the chain. He was sweating badly under the leather and he felt so hot.

Everything was terribly arousing.

***

“How long has he been like this?” Greg asked when Mycroft led him into his bedroom.  
“About one hour. It's his first time but he is doing fine.” Both men looked at Sherlock and his arousal. Greg licked his lips and looked at Mycroft again.  
“What do you want to do now?” He carefully asked because Mycroft hadn't initiated anything yet.  
“I would like to see you two together dominated by me, performing acts on each other on my command.” He stared into the Detective's eyes.  
“Oh God, yes!” Greg barely got the words out when Mycroft made his move and threw him on the bed. He undressed him and bound his hands on his lower back. He pulled him up and on his knees. Greg just spread his legs and the move made Mycroft smile.  
But then he put a cage on his cock and Greg groaned. It was followed by a plug being shoved into his behind. It was pulsing and soon Lestrade's body shook.  
“Get over to Sherlock now.” Mycroft ordered and Greg obeyed instantly.  
“Tease him. Go on.” Gregory wasn't quite sure what Mycroft expected but he moved up close and pressed his lips on Sherlock's chest. The reaction was wild and Greg was pushed back and fell on his behind. The plug was pressed deeper inside and he crunched his face.  
Mycroft was holding a mean looking whip in his hand and lashed out hitting Greg's thigh.  
“I have seen better performances. Try again!” The whip forced Greg forward and since he was down on the ground anyway, he just opened his mouth and sucked Sherlock's cock.  
Sherlock stood stock-still but wildly shook his head. His long legs trembled but were straightened. It reminded Mycroft of a frightened horse.  
Greg had just sucked once and let his cock touch his throat when Sherlock came and shot his cum down his throat. His whole body sagged and Mycroft quickly held him up and loosened the chain. He gently lowered him down and left him there.

Sherlock made desperate noises for a while but stopped again when nothing happened.

***  
In the meantime, Mycroft had Greg on the armchair. He was riding him and his cock still was caged. Mycroft's eyes were still on his brother's body on the ground when he came into Lestrade. He had been able to get inside very quickly due to the plug from before.  
Rather quickly he pushed him off, tied his ankles and left him in a hog-tie on the hardwood. Greg knew better than to complain and just waited for Mycroft's next move.  
Mycroft walked over to Sherlock and once moved his finger over his nipple. The whole body convulsed and it made him smile. He took off the spreader-bar and moved him over to his bed where he tied his legs spread wide open to the posts. And he tied them higher up so he was completely exposed.  
He changed the ropes on his wrists, as well, and tied his arms to the posts, too. He left the mask on.  
Next, he brought Lestrade over. He placed him half on top of Sherlock and removed the cage.  
“Fuck him.” A simple order, normally. But how was he supposed to fuck him tied up like this? Anyway, he was in good shape and struggled forward on the bed. He saw Sherlock was hard again and threw himself up a bit more.  
All his moves were accompanied by Mycroft's quiet laughter.  
“I'd like to see you try this...” Greg hissed.  
“Well, you won't.” He got up and walked over holding a gag between his fingers. Greg groaned.  
“Please, I am sorry, Sir. I didn't...” Mycroft shoved the gag behind his teeth and started to pump. Greg wasn't able to push it back out and Mycroft grinned.  
“Much better.” He once patted Lestrade on his behind and then made an inviting gesture.  
“Keep going.” Lestrade robbed upwards until his cock was between Sherlock's legs. His head moved from left to right and back very quickly and Mycroft fastened the mask to his bed, too.  
He saw that Greg was close and tried to push inside already. He took the whip and once hit him on his arse. Greg pushed forward and entered Sherlock.

***

Sherlock had never experienced deprivation before. He was excited. He trusted his brother, of course he did. He had always liked painpleasure but this was an entirely different treatment. The white noise coming out of the earbuds was driving him insane and he kept biting the gag inside his mouth.  
He had lost all his senses. He was used to them and now he was so helpless. A different helplessness than normally in a session. He had no idea what was going to happen next. Deduction wasn't possible like this.  
The only thing he could do was wait. Wait and react.  
He also was able to feel his raging hard-on. His arousal was almost too painful. He had no idea for how long he had been standing when hot lips were pressed on his chest. The impact was extreme and he was panting and sweating. His whole body shook and he feared to fall over when something touched his cock and sucked it.  
Sherlock completely lost it then. He felt being lowered onto the hardwood. And then there was nothing again. He slowly was able to relax and just concentrated on the white noise.

Again, time just passed and Sherlock became excited for his brother's next move. And there it was. He was being put on the bed and tied to the posts with his arse completely exposed to whomever was going to do him.  
He couldn't deduce anything from the moves close to him. He felt the mattress move and he felt another body but the movements were all wrong. No one approached a naked, tied man like this. It was weird. And exciting. His brother was a bloody genius.  
Suddenly a cock touched his flesh, his thigh, and soon enough penetrated him. There hadn't been any preparation and it felt almost too rough. He felt like screaming and yelling but he heard nothing.  
He was being fucked rough and hard and fast and it was perfect. He moved his body as best as he could and the prick, not Mycroft's, touched his prostate repeatedly. He was close and shook all over.  
He felt the other man's orgasm and loads of cum was pumped into him. His stretched-out muscle contracted and milked the strange organ. Sherlock shuddered and finally came, as well.

He wondered if this was over now but nothing happened. He kept being tied up. He felt a weight leaving the mattress and then nothing. He moved his head, almost desperate now, and pleaded around the thick gag, but no mercy was shown.  
Quite the contrary, because his nipples were clamped and both his cock and balls were being tied up. Sherlock groaned rather weakly but didn't safeword. He was too curious for what was to come.  
Something was taped on his inner thighs and stomach and a plug was shoved into him. Electric pulses started to torment him soon enough and they wouldn't stop. The circle was strong and his body shook.  
All of a sudden everything stopped and Sherlock whimpered. He waited but there was nothing. Nothing happened. He had lost any sense for time and he felt like crying. He probably did cry but he couldn't feel it under the leather because it clung to his skin too tight.  
Then there was a scratching on his feet and he screamed wildly and shook. It stopped. Instead he was tickled without mercy. All over his body and he became insane. Sherlock was rather sure there were more than two hands so Lestrade must still be around.  
The tickling stopped, too, and again nothing happened.

Nothing.

***

Both Mycroft and Lestrade looked at Sherlock's sweaty body.  
“I think you should stop this now, Mycroft. This is definitely a red, a rather dark one.” Greg looked serious.  
“Are you safewording for my brother, Gregory?” Mycroft asked raising a brow and for once Lestrade didn't cower during a session. Instead he straightened up and held his gaze.  
“Yes, I do. I believe Sherlock is too weak to even safeword in his position. And you are to engrossed in your game to stop by yourself. So yes, I am safewording on your brother's behalf. Red, Mycroft, now!”  
Mycroft didn't answer but looked at Sherlock's body still tied to his bed. Perhaps Gregory was right. He sighed.  
He needed a few seconds but finally he had untied his brother's limbs from the posts. Sherlock didn't move a bit.  
“Unlock the bloody mask, Myc. Quickly!” Lestrade knelt by his side on the bed while Mycroft opened the locks and undid the gag at first. From between lifeless lips he pulled the gag. A rough cough followed but still no movement. The blindfold followed and Lestrade saw the movement behind the closed lids. He gently used the washcloth he had prepared a minute ago and moved it over his eyes but still nothing.  
“Here, let me help you.” Carefully Greg pulled Sherlock up so Mycroft was able to undo the bindings of the mask. He gently pulled it off and now they saw that he was unconscious. His hair was a sweaty mess and was glued to his head. They lowered him down and now Greg could wash his face.  
Sherlock's lips parted and he let out a heavy breath. He wouldn't open his eyes though.  
By now Mycroft was scared, he really was. His hands were trembling while he tenderly touched his brother.  
“Let me. You go and get me fresh water and the first-aid kit.” Mycroft just left and for once did as he was told. In the meantime, Greg got rid of the clamps. Sherlock didn't even twitch, he was too far gone. And he wasn't in subspace. Greg fumbled for the plug and pulled it out, too.  
He took a bottle with water from the night-table and pulled Sherlock up a bit. He tried to make him drink but it didn't work. Greg was extremely worried and felt for his pulse. It was weak, very much so, but beating steadily.  
Right then Mycroft returned with a bowl of warm water and a fresh washcloth. He also brought the first-aid kit.

Greg cleaned Sherlock's wrists and ankles and applied some ointment and bandages over the bruised skin there. He also put salve on his nipples and anus. Now Sherlock groaned quietly and moved a bit. His lids were twitching.  
“Sherlock, brother-dear, can you hear me?” Mycroft quietly asked and took his hand between his own.  
“Open your eyes, Sherlock, please? It's me, Lestrade.” Greg's voice was soothing and Sherlock opened his eyes. The moment Mycroft saw the red-rimmed eyes and blotchy face for real he broke out in tears. He cried completely still and it scared Greg a lot. Sherlock just looked confused. He tried to speak but only rough noises were made.  
“Hush, Sherlock. Here, drink this first. You need to drink.” Greg urged him to swallow some water and some of it made it into his body.  
Greg looked at Mycroft and saw what was about to happen.  
“No, don't you dare. You will st...” He couldn't end his sentence because Mycroft already dashed out of the room. He fled the scene he had created. The scene he hadn't been able to stop because it had been too good. For him.  
Lestrade sighed and knew he couldn't go after him because he never would leave Sherlock behind.  
Now there were stressed noises from down below. Sherlock really tried to get up but was too weak. One hand clawed at Lestrade and his eyes were wide open.  
“Myc?” He roughly asked for his brother who had run away from everything.  
“He'll be back shortly. Don't worry.” He tried to convince Sherlock but it didn't work. Sherlock's face crunched and he started to cry. His pulse was beating too fast now and his eyes rolled back. He was going into shock.  
Lestrade knew he needed a doctor. He rolled him on his side and raced after Mycroft.  
“Where are you?” Standing on the aisle in front of the bedroom he yelled the question into the house. Slowly he walked downstairs and kept talking loudly.  
“Your brother just went into shock. He needs you, Myc. Now! He also needs an ambulance. Come out of your hiding place at once and help me!” Only then he heard the desperate sobbing and entered the living-room.  
Mycroft stood in front of the fire-place and hugged himself.  
“Get a bloody grip on yourself and help me!” Lestrade hissed getting closer but got no reaction.  
“Mycroft?” He asked again and finally he just hit him flat handed in the face. That got a reaction. A hand was raised and covered his red cheek.  
“You hit me...” He whispered.  
“Yes, I did. And I will do so again, if you don't come out and help me. Sherlock needs our help. Who do I call? Probably you don't want a regular ambulance?”  
“No, no I really don't.” With shaking hands, he retrieved his mobile and handed it over to Greg.  
“Call Anthea. She will arrange everything.” Greg didn't argue but called her. She promised to get help at once. Greg just joined Sherlock upstairs who slowly tried to get out of bed but failed. He was deeply concerned about him and also very disappointed with Mycroft.  
And again, Sherlock was asking for his brother. What was Greg supposed to say? He couldn't tell him the truth, could he?

Suddenly there were two man carrying a stretcher.  
“What happened here?” One of them asked while the other prepared an infusion for Sherlock. Lestrade described the situation but didn't go too deep. They injected Sherlock with something and he visibly relaxed. His eyes were on Greg now and only half open.  
“Take care of him...” His head lolled to the side and gone he was. The men put him on the stretcher and carried him away. Greg worried his lips.  
“Where are you taking him?” Lestrade asked by the door.  
“Mr Holmes will get a text.” And gone they were. Lestrade sighed and closed the door. Sherlock had been worried about his brother. He had asked him to take care of him. Greg wished he could kick his arse around but of course he wouldn't. He knew both brothers were different from other people. He also knew he liked Mycroft and perhaps he liked him a bit too much. That's why he returned into the living-room and didn't just go away.

***

Somehow, he managed to get Mycroft into bed. He had cleared out everything being left behind from their session. He had taken him into the bath and washed him. He had dressed him into a pair of fresh pyjamas and pulled up the duvet over his body.  
No words had been spoken but Mycroft looked more relaxed now. He just looked at Greg. He didn't try to touch him.

After Mycroft had fallen asleep Greg didn't know what to do. For sure he didn't want to join Mycroft in his bed. He also didn't want to leave. So instead he walked back into the living-room and finally poured a strong drink. His eyes fell on the mobile and it blinked with a message. He picked it up and read the address of the hospital. Anthea had texted. Perhaps he should call her and ask what to do with Mycroft? But how much did she know about his private life? Something? Everything? Nothing? He sighed again.  
He took his drink and walked into the kitchen to prepare a snack. He slowly ate two sandwiches and finished off a second drink.  
He knew there were guestrooms upstairs and he decided to occupy one of them. He left a note on Mycroft's night-stand in case he would wake and look for him. Inside the guestroom he undressed and used the loo. He didn't bother with taking a shower. Instead he simply climbed into bed and rolled on his side. He was done and fell asleep in seconds with the light still on.

***

Sherlock knew something was wrong but he was too weak to figure it out. He didn't resist while being taken away into hospital. He had nothing to fear. He only wondered where his brother was. What had happened? He was still so confused and couldn't properly remember.  
He knew though that his brother was safe with Lestrade. He knew he could rely on Greg to take care of Mycroft.  
So, the moment he was put in bed in hospital he closed his eyes and fell asleep. Some meds might have helped with that.  
He dreamt of strange things but it wasn't scary, just weird.

He woke because he was thirsty and hungry. He carefully sat up and pulled a face because his behind hurt. There was water on the table by his bed but he wasn't able to reach it. He looked for the bell to ring for a nurse. The door to his room was opened beforehand and he looked up.  
“Mr Holmes, I thought I knew your name.” Inside came Dr Watson in a white coat and a smile on his handsome face.  
Sherlock knew he was smelly, hadn't brushed his teeth and was half-naked only clothed in that terrible hospital-gown. And he didn't like it.  
“Dr Watson, what a nice surprise.” He barely got the words croaked out and Dr Watson just handed over the water for him. Sherlock slowly drank and it was good.  
“Thank you.” His voice was better and Dr Watson came closer.  
“Would you like to talk about what happened to you?” He seriously asked.  
“Why would I? It was a session and we both exaggerated. He didn't mean any harm.” Sherlock shrugged it off.  
“Are you sure?” Dr Watson insisted.  
“Absolutely sure. Listen, I am not in an abusive relationship. It's all fine.”  
“Well.” The doctor cleared his throat and reached out for Sherlock to take his pulse.  
“Are you feeling better?” He asked looking at his watch. Sherlock nodded.  
“I am now.” He replied.  
“Your pulse is beating too fast. What's up?” Sherlock could tell him but it would be not decent.  
“Nothing?” He looked at a point beside the doctor's head but he moved back into his line of sight.  
“I know when you are lying to me. Please, don't play stupid games.”  
“Do you remember when we first met in the lab?” Sherlock then asked. Dr Watson straightened up.  
“Yes, I do. Why?” They locked eyes.  
“I liked you at first sight but I was too shy to keep you there. I wished to see you again but I didn't dare ask Mike. Now destiny has brought me here and I simply have to ask. Would you like to share a flat with me? Be my flatmate?” Sherlock swallowed and John just had to sit down.  
“Wow. I mean, I haven't expected this. But you know, I felt the same. I was sad when you left the lab without having said anything. And I didn't ask Mike either. I believe, we were both stupid.” He smiled at Sherlock.  
“So, would you come and look at my place? I am really looking for a flatmate. Oh, and you can't be boring.”  
“What? Yes, I mean I would like to look at your place. And by boring you mean sexually or...?” He asked and Sherlock blushed.  
“Obviously you aren't stupid. You are a doctor. And I mean not only sexually. You have seen my body and drew your conclusions. You don't seem to be too shocked about it. You were only upset because you thought I wasn't handled with enough care. You see, I solve crimes for Scotland Yard and do experiments. You could help me with the crimes when you are not working. I mean, I am right about the fact you don't work full-time?”  
“You are right on all accounts. Let me ask just one question. You are a submissive, aren't you?” John Watson seriously asked.  
“I believe I am. And you are a dominant.” John slowly nodded.  
“Yes, at least I was. Since my return from war I haven't...” He shook his head and stopped talking.  
“How long do I have to stay here?” Sherlock asked quickly changing the topic and the question brought John back a bit.  
“I would like to have you watched for another 24 hours. You are allowed visitors. Someone has brought you a mobile and a laptop.” He pointed over to the big table by the window. Sherlock was pleased.  
“I will behave.” Sherlock just said smiling and leant back into his cushions. John stood, too.  
“You better will.” He tried to sound stern but failed. He left with a smile though. Sherlock fell asleep again.

***

He woke again when dinner was brought. He thanked the nurse and looked at the food. Probably his brother had ordered to feed him his favourites because normally there wasn't pizza from his favourite Italian restaurant served in hospital. Sherlock dug in and looked up when it knocked on the door. It was opened a few seconds later and in came Lestrade. Sherlock's face lit up.  
“Greg! I need to thank you for taking care of me. What happened to my brother? I remember he left but I don't know why. I was confused. But I know you have been there with me all the time. You stayed and helped. And now you are here and my big brother isn't. What is going on?” Sherlock wiped his mouth.  
“First of all, I am glad you are well again. I was really worried. I even hit your brother. Now he is trying to hide from me. He puts work first. He behaves stupid. I also want to tell you how sorry I am. I should have safeworded earlier. I always could have but I haven't. And then it was too late. You fell into shock and your brother panicked. I was left to clean up.” Greg shrugged.  
“Nothing of what happened has been your fault. I could have safeworded, too, and I haven't. I wanted the experience. It was amazing. It was new. I had never done it before. And when he brought you into the game there was no stopping me. I wanted everything.”  
“We were both stupid then.” Greg said and looked at him.  
“Let's agree to that, shall we? Now what about my darling brother? Where is he hiding? Did he go abroad again?” Sherlock wondered.  
“Your darling brother is hiding in his office in Whitehall and claims I don't have the clearance to see him. He wouldn't come home. I talked to Anthea several times; she keeps me up to date. I don't know what to do.” Lestrade looked helpless.  
“He feels guilty. He always does because of … us.” Sherlock locked eyes with Lestrade.  
“They want to keep me here for another 24 hours. I agreed and promised to behave. Please pick me up by this hour tomorrow. I can get to Mycroft and I will shake his limbs until his brain has properly settled again.”  
“I once promised your brother to keep you safe and don't get bored. That's why I brought you these.” He placed some folders on top of Sherlock's body.  
“You are the best, Lestrade. And don't worry too much. He will come back to you. He is just scared. But by now he also knows that he can rely on you. Always. That's good.” Sherlock yawned.  
“Sleep some more and go through the files. I'll be back tomorrow to pick you up. See you, Sherlock.” Sherlock weakly lifted his hand and feel asleep. Greg smiled and left.

About an hour later Dr Watson returned to have a look at Sherlock before he clocked out. Sherlock was on his side in the bed and drooled on the pillow. John Watson smiled and moved the fringe from his forehead.  
“I will come and see you. I would like to see your place and look at the free room.” Then he shook his head knowing very well that his money wouldn't be enough for the place Sherlock lived in. He had seen his credentials.

Suddenly Sherlock woke and their eyes met.  
“Dr Watson, what's the matter?” He groggily asked sitting up. He rubbed over his tired eyes and it made him look several years younger.  
“Everything is fine. I just wanted to see you before going home. You look better and you are free to go tomorrow.”  
“Oh, that's good, isn't it? Will I see you tomorrow morning?” He asked.  
“I should hope so.” Both men smiled.  
“I look forward to our meeting at my flat. I will prepare dinner if you like?” Sherlock didn't want it to sound too much like a date but he had hopes.  
“I very much like.” John smiled some more and Sherlock felt butterflies inside his stomach.  
“What would you like to eat?” Sherlock asked.  
“Surprise me!” John answered and stood. And he stood close to Sherlock who lifted his hand a bit sheepishly. But John took it and held it for a minute without saying a word. Only then he left.  
Sherlock relaxed into the cushion and calculated the amount of goods he had to buy for several different meals for John and him.  
He rolled out of bed and picked up the mobile. He sent a text to Mycroft.

_“Normally I am the one who behaves stupidly.”  
SH_

Then he waited.

_“What are you talking about? How are you anyway?”  
MH_

Well, at least he answered his text. That was something.

_“You left me behind with Greg. You fled your own scene. What's wrong with you?”  
SH_

_“I wanted to give you something special. I thought I had hurt you too much. I was scared.”  
MH_

That was brutally honest and Sherlock understood his brother, of course he did.

_“You did give me something special. It was perfect. I could have safeworded but I didn't want to. You know me, brother-mine.”  
SH_

_“Gregory is very cross with me.”  
MH_

_“Lestrade likes you a lot. He is just confused. You need to talk to him.”  
SH_

_“He believes I hurt you.”  
MH_

_“Yes, he does. Now he needs to speak with you to clear the air. Don't push him back.”  
SH_

_“Do you believe he would follow an invitation for dinner and drinks?”  
MH_

_“He surely would. He will pick me up tomorrow around noon. Text him while I am with him. I can talk him round if he denies you.”  
SH_

_“Thank you, brother-dear.”  
MH_

Sherlock sent a last smiley and ended their conversation. He was looking forward to his next meeting with Dr Watson tomorrow morning. Then he would be picked up by Lestrade and brought home. Perhaps they could stop on their way and pick up some stuff. And they needed to stop by Mycroft's place to pick up his few belongings that still sat there.  
He got the laptop and started to browse cooking sites. The dinner for John needed to be perfect.

***

Sherlock didn't sleep that night but showered the next morning and tried to look nice. But without his brush and his special products his hair looked like an exploded cushion.  
He could only sit on the bed and wait for Dr Watson to appear and probably laugh.  
But when he entered Sherlock's room, he simply looked at him and smiled.  
“You have showered, that's good. Any pain or sickness?” He asked taking his pulse very gently. The butterflies showed up again.  
“No, everything is fine. I am good to go.” Sherlock replied.  
“I was told you are going to be picked up by a DI Lestrade? Is that correct?” Dr Watson asked.  
“Yes, I arranged that and he will be here around noon. But if you need the space I can wait outside.”  
“No, that's not necessary. You can stay in here and relax a bit more. You could also think about what to cook for me tonight.” John's smile was lightening up his face.  
“I already did that.” Sherlock smiled, too.  
“Sounds just perfect. I will leave you be now and prepare your documents for release. And do have breakfast, please?” Sherlock pulled a face but Dr Watson insisted. Right then a nurse entered the room and greeted both Sherlock and Dr Watson.  
“Good morning, Mr Holmes. I am bringing you breakfast.” She placed it on the bedside-table and smiled at him.  
“Dr Watson, good morning.” She smiled at John and Sherlock didn't like it.  
“Nurse Regis, good morning.” He gave her a polite smile but his eyes looked warmly at Sherlock.  
“I promise to eat breakfast. Don't worry, Dr Watson.” Sherlock felt great and even better when the nurse left. John Watson just shook his head and smiled.  
“I see you later, Mr Holmes.” Dr Watson left and Sherlock eyed the tray. There was coffee and toast and jam. There even was a fried egg. He put the fried egg on the toast and squeezed it. He made a bloody mess and had to wash his face but he actually enjoyed breakfast.  
When he was presentable again, he took the laptop and browsed more cooking sites while waiting for Lestrade.

***

“Sherlock, hey. I am sorry I am a bit late but murderers and bank robbers. You know how it is.” But he smiled.  
“Yes, I do.” He smiled back and stood. He already had his documents and was ready to go.  
“Lestrade, at first I need to pick up my stuff from Myc's place.” Sherlock said while they walked out of the hospital.  
“Yes, for your new flat. I am excited about it. But if there is a first...”  
“Yes, I also need to go to a supermarket to buy food and wine and such.” Greg just looked at him.  
“What?”  
“I invited Dr Watson for dinner and drinks. I also offered him a flatshare.”  
“What?” Greg's eyes were wide open when his mobile gave the alert for a text. They already sat in his car and he checked the display.  
“It's your brother. He asks me over.” He said.  
“Don't you want to text back?” Sherlock asked.  
“I don't know what to do.” He shook his head and put the mobile away. Sherlock needed to talk to him but not here.  
“Let's pick up my things first.” Sherlock said and Greg simply nodded.  
Only when they stood inside a large Tesco and Sherlock looked around absolutely helpless, Greg knew what he got himself into.  
“Do you have a shopping-list?” He asked and was handed the mobile. He scrolled down and paled.  
“You don't want to buy all this, do you?” He looked at Sherlock.  
“But I have to be sure I have something he likes. What if I chose something and he hates it?” Sherlock looked desperate.  
“Haven't you asked him?” Greg asked.  
“He said to surprise him.” Sherlock worried his lips.  
“OK, do you trust me in making a choice?” Sherlock just nodded. Lestrade started to load things into the cart and Sherlock just followed him around.  
“You have wine and whisky on your list.” Greg said.  
“Yes, I have already taken some from Mycroft. He knows, don't worry. You don't buy such things here.” Sherlock pulled a face at the selection of wine.  
“Well, I do...” But Lestrade didn't say it out loud.  
“Are you sure you can prepare the dinner?” He asked when they loaded everything into his car.  
“I looked at cooking sites and I hope I can handle it like a chemical experiment.” He shrugged.  
“I will write down a few things you have to look out for. But it should be fine. You should be fine.” Finally, they reached 221B Baker Street.  
“This is the place Mycroft found me.” Sherlock explained while they climbed up the stairs loaded with bags.  
“A great spot for sure.” Sherlock opened the door into the flat and let Lestrade inside.  
“And this is it. My new flat. It's great. Upstairs there is another room for Dr Watson. I talked to Mycroft and he had it furnished from my money and ideas.” Sherlock looked proud. Lestrade thought the flat was chaotic.  
“Perhaps you should clean up a bit?” He carefully suggested.  
“Do you think he will be shocked? Disgusted?” Now Sherlock looked panicked.  
“I'll help you. Don't worry. When do you expect him?”  
“At seven.” Both men looked at their watches.  
“OK, you go and clean the bath and your bedroom. I'll take care of the kitchen and the living-room.” They started to work and made it look clean and nice.  
“Where did you want the flowers, you have bought?” Greg asked holding them up.  
“The room upstairs. I want him to like it here.” Sherlock blushed a little bit.  
“You are a romantic sod!” Greg laughed but brought the flowers upstairs.  
“A romantic sod with a submissive streak a mile wide...” Sherlock murmured to himself and looked around. There was only one last thing to do.  
So, when Greg came back downstairs, he looked at him.  
“Please do talk to Mycroft. He doesn't know what to do. He only knows he wants you back. He is in love with you, Lestrade. Just give him a chance to explain himself, please?” He seriously looked at him.  
“I miss him. I really do.” Greg sighed but smiled.  
“I will call him. Don't worry about us. Have fun and don't burn the food. Call me!” He hugged him and pecked a kiss on his forehead.  
At first Sherlock checked the notes Greg had written. He had enough time to start the cooking. He set up the table first and made it look nice. He opened the wine and polished the glasses once more. He showered and changed. He neatly arranged his hair and was very pleased with the result.

Half past six he started to cook. Dr John Watson was right on time. Exactly at seven he knocked at his door upstairs. Obviously, Mrs Hudson had left him inside. He wiped his hands clean and opened the door.  
“Dr Watson, come in.” He made an inviting gesture and let him pass.  
“Mr Holmes, it's good to see you all up and happy.” Sherlock took his jacket and hung it up.  
“Dinner is about ready. Please have a seat. Would you like a drink?” Sherlock was a well-educated man and it showed. John felt great.  
“Yes, thanks.” He was handed a tumbler with whisky and sat on the sofa. He looked around and wished he could afford to live here. He stood when his drink was gone and placed the tumbler on the coffee-table.  
“Please sit down, dinner is to be served.” John sat at the kitchen-table. Sherlock had lit a candle and presented his meal. John licked his lips and helped himself. Sherlock poured wine and sat down, too. He lifted his glass.  
“To a wonderful evening!” He toasted and John Watson lifted his glass, too.  
“To a wonderful meal and host!” Sherlock blushed and cast his eyes. John felt warm.  
John started to eat. The food was fantastic. Soon enough he noticed that Sherlock picked his food or moved it around his plate.  
“Doesn't the cook like his meal?” John asked but smiled.  
“No, it's just... I am too nervous.” He smiled a bit weakly.  
“You are indeed a bit pale around the nose. Come on and drink some wine.” John lifted his glass again and Sherlock followed suit.  
“By the way, call me John. You offered me a flatshare, so you can't call me Dr Watson.”  
“Very good, John. Then you have to call me Sherlock.” They smiled and drank. Sherlock felt a bit better and ate a bit more. While having dessert Sherlock asked another question.  
“What was your rank?” John was surprised.  
“I didn't tell you that I was an army-doctor, did I?” He asked.  
“No, you didn't.” Then Sherlock started to explain how he knew. Tanned above the wrists, the stance, his haircut, and his injury. Sherlock couldn't tell him he knew because his brother had his file nicked. But his deductions were correct anyway, with or without the file.  
“Amazing!” John quietly said and Sherlock again blushed. But a second later he looked up.  
“So?” He asked curiously.  
“Captain. Rank of a captain.” John replied shrugging.  
“Is it Captain Doctor Watson then?” Sherlock asked. John quietly laughed.  
“No, it's Dr Watson or John. I'd prefer John.”  
“Would you like another drink?” Sherlock asked standing up and collecting the plates.  
“Please, but let me help.” John stood, too, but Sherlock denied him.  
“No, you are my guest and you don't work. Please enjoy your drink.” He refilled his tumbler and John stepped up to the window overlooking Baker Street.  
Suddenly Sherlock stood behind him. Close behind. Very close.  
“Would you like to see your room?” He asked. John turned and looked up at him.  
“Yes, please.” They climbed up and Sherlock opened the door.  
“This is your room.” John stepped inside and had a closer look. Everything was new. It was freshly painted; the rug was lovely and so was all the furniture. There were even flowers on the desk by the window.  
John looked at Sherlock.  
“It's great. I really wish I could afford living here. I would move right in. But my salary won't allow this. I am sorry, Sherlock.” John sadly shook his head.  
But Sherlock had expected exactly this and wasn't shocked.  
“Never mind your salary. You pay me what you can. It's all fine.” He stared at John willing him to agree.  
“But I need to contribute more than that.” John again looked at the flowers and he smiled.  
“You will be here. You will look after me. You can be my company on my cases. You can be of help regarding injuries and poisonings.” Now John looked a bit shocked.  
“What? What kind of cases?” He asked.  
“I am helping Scotland Yard solving crimes. I will explain everything that needs to be explained. I cannot lie to you. Please sit down with me by the fire.” John followed him back downstairs and wondered what was coming up. He had read the man's medical file already. He had seen the old puncture wounds on his arms and feet. What more was there to know? But perhaps Sherlock just wanted to tell him himself.  
They sat down by the fire and now Sherlock filled some whisky for himself, as well. And then he started to talk. He began with his relationship with Mycroft, his brother. He told him about their abusive father and his time at boarding school. He also told him about his longing for his older brother, his love for him and how he waited until he was sixteen.  
John topped up their glasses in the meantime but kept listening. He listened to everything regarding the cocaine and all the other drugs Sherlock used to fight the boredom and calm his mind.  
The story ended with Lestrade's appearance and their threesome that brought Sherlock to hospital.  
“I believe you must be shocked but I didn't want to hold back. It's up to you now.” Sherlock hopefully looked at John.  
“I appreciate you telling me the truth. And all of this doesn't stop me moving in. We got a second chance after the laboratory. And I believe that all what counts is the presence.” Sherlock smiled.  
“Yes, there is that. And I am a submissive. We have talked about that at the hospital. You said you were a dominant. You pull me towards you, Captain Doctor. I have butterflies inside. I never wanted someone so badly except for m y brother. Yes, I had sex with the DI, as well. But it was out of curiosity and sympathy. But it wasn't love.”  
“I never lived with a submissive. I never had a lasting relationship. I don't know what you expect but I can tell you what I imagine.” John sipped a bit and continued to talk.  
“I enjoy dominating men in bed. I had a lot of affairs and my nickname back in the army was “Three-Continents-Watson”. I love using ropes, gags, and blindfolds. I love to go into clubs where I can use the studios with its equipment for suspension I could never afford at home. I am quite a simple dom. I don't expect you to behave like a dog. I hate pony-play. I don't like human furniture or bathroom games.” He shrugged and finished his drink. Sherlock topped it up.  
“I enjoy being kissed. I like being tied up and gagged. I also like it a bit rough, not a lot of lube. Before I had to go to hospital, I experienced a deprivation mask for the first time and it was great. I like it when someone cards through my hair while I kneel by his side. Sometimes I even enjoy being hit but I don't need it. For years I only ever had sex with my brother until Lestrade came into the mix. He is a switch. I once switched with him, too. It was nice.” Sherlock topped up his own drink.  
“I won't ever be shared or brought into a club. Bathroom games are taboo as well as all the things you have mentioned already. There won't be 24/7 games. There will always be a safeword. Oh, and I love to experiment.” They looked at each other and finally they both smiled.  
“I believe we are a match.” John said reaching out for Sherlock's hand. The butterflies were back and Sherlock leant towards John.  
“I haven't thanked you yet for the wonderful dinner and everything upstairs.” John whispered.  
“There is still time to do so.” Sherlock's voice had become rough.  
“You haven't showed me everything in here.” John said tilting his head. Sherlock swallowed. And then he stood.  
“Please follow me.” John stood, too, and followed. Sherlock opened the door to his bedroom.  
“My bedroom, Captain Doctor. Please come inside.” He smirked and so did John who closed the door.  
“Bathroom is over there.” John stepped up close.  
“I want you...” He roughly whispered and pulled him close. Sherlock allowed it closing his eyes for a second.  
“What do you want me to do?” He asked because he didn't know any other way. Mycroft always gave him orders.  
“Just let me. Relax. Don't think, just be.” Now Sherlock was confused. But John smiled at him and his hands started to move over his still clad body.  
“Hold still and let me do this, Sherlock.” And Sherlock stilled while John slowly undressed him. After a few minutes he made him sit on the bed and knelt down in front of him. Sherlock felt weird but let him. He had been asked to let him and he wanted to please him.  
He pulled off his shoes and socks at first. Finally, he opened his trousers and Sherlock opened his lips breathing hard. John looked up at him and his left was pressed against his chest urging him down on his back. Sherlock moved with the gentle pressure and John pulled down his trousers.  
Sherlock's cock showed itself clearly beneath his boxers. John palmed his length and Sherlock moaned.  
“You are so beautiful. I am such a lucky man.” John said leaning forward and kissing his stomach.  
“John, I don't know... This is … This is different... I...” Sherlock had no words but felt his boxers being pulled down, as well.  
“Hush. Trust me. It's all fine.” John moved up close and knelt between his legs. His hands spread his knees and his lips closed over his prick. Sherlock shouted and clawed into the sheets.

John sucked him, licked him, and caressed him until Sherlock came. John sat back after having swallowed everything and just waited for Sherlock to get up on his elbows.  
“Please...” He roughly begged lifting one arm for John to take. And John understood. He stood and climbed on the bed pulling Sherlock up with him. Soon Sherlock wound his body around the smaller one of John and held him tight.  
It took John a bit until he realised that Sherlock was crying against his chest.  
“Hey, what's wrong? Talk to me, love.” Sherlock only held on tighter.  
“I haven't hurt you, have I?” Sherlock sobbed once.  
“No, of course not. Quite the opposite. You were so gentle, as if you were making love to me.” John looked around for a tissue-box but saw none.  
“I was making love to you.” He replied.  
“But I thought you wanted a session.” Sherlock sobbed out the words.  
“Not today. A session needs to be negotiated and tonight was about something else.” John tried to explain.  
“I don't understand!” Now Sherlock became upset and tried to sit up. John let go and leant against the headrest, as well.  
“Have you enjoyed what I did?” John simply asked.  
“How could you ask that? Wasn't it obvious? It was great! I saw white lights and fireworks!”  
“Where do you have tissues?” John asked looking at his running nose.  
“Kitchen counter.” Sherlock answered. John got up still fully dressed and found the box. He handed it over to Sherlock who blew his nose several times throwing the tissues on the hardwood.  
“Did I do this wrong?” John asked standing beside the bed.  
“You are doing it wrong if you don't come back under the blanket with me.”  
“Do you mind if I undress beforehand?” John asked and it made Sherlock smile again.  
“Not at all.” He wiped over his eyes and John pitied him a bit. He pulled his jumper over his head followed by his t-shirt. He toed off his shoes and socks in one go and shimmied out of his jeans and boxers until he was naked.  
Sherlock looked closely and really enjoyed the sight. He smiled up at John who finally came to his side.  
“Should I have told you what I was about to do?” John asked and Sherlock shook his head.  
“No, it was just unexpectedly nice and gentle. Different gentle from what I know. I mean, my brother isn't a monster. He can be very gentle at times. But this was different, very much so. Please always keep surprising me.”  
John pulled him close and held him tight promising exactly that with every fibre.


	13. Chapter Thirteen - Rearrangements

After Greg had left 221B he had driven back to his place. He sat on his sofa and stared at his mobile. He again read the text from Mycroft.

_“I miss you. Please come over for dinner and drinks. I owe you.”  
MH_

Greg fiddled with his mobile wondering what to answer. If to answer. He still was shocked because of Mycroft's behaviour. But he also missed him. He felt more for him than he had thought. He was more than an affair or a friend with benefits. He felt too much. He might even love him.  
Finally, he typed his reply.

_“We will talk over dinner and drinks because I miss you, too. You have a lot to explain. See you tonight.”  
GL_

He hit _send_ before overthinking it and stood to smoke a cigarette. He checked the time and had found he could shower and change before driving over to Mycroft's.

While getting dressed again he wondered about Sherlock. Hopefully he hadn't burnt the kitchen while preparing dinner for Dr Watson. He wished it worked out for him. He had been so happy while they did the shopping and everything.  
He sighed and left his flat working towards the tube. He rode over to Kensington and had to walk for a bit because there were no bus stops around where Mycroft bloody Holmes lived. But he didn't mind. It wasn't too cold or even raining and he reached the house on time.  
He rang the bell and Roger opened the door.  
“Detective Inspector, it's good to see you.” He once blinked and Greg wondered if it meant something. Before Greg could say anything, he was ushered inside and his coat was taken away.  
Since he knew his way he just walked into the living-room where he found Mycroft standing by the fire-place.  
“I wondered if you would really come and see me.” He simply said.  
“I also did wonder, you know?” Greg slowly came closer and helped himself to a drink because Mycroft didn't make a move.  
“Sit with me. Talk to me. I am here so you can explain your actions. I need to understand what happened back then.” Greg pointed to the sofa and Mycroft slowly came over and sat down. Only then Greg sat, too. He turned sideways so he could face Mycroft. He found him sickly pale. His hair was in disarray. He wore no cuff links.  
“Bloody hell!” Greg thought to himself but kept waiting. It took Mycroft about a few minutes until he deeply inhaled and started to talk.  
“I got us the deprivation mask because Sherlock loves to experiment. He loves trying out new stuff. I always have kept him busy like this, keep his mind busy so he isn't bored. I found I liked it a lot, as well. Plus, you were there. You both tried so hard to follow my orders even though they were almost impossible to fulfil.” He sadly smiled.  
“After Sherlock had blacked out and you had taken over, I felt paralysed. My body was cold and sweaty. I never experienced such emotions. I believe it was the simple fear Sherlock had died; that I had killed my brother.” He lifted the tumbler and sipped some more. His hand was trembling.  
“I knew I could rely on you to do make everything right again.” He looked up at Greg only then.  
“Sherlock was unconscious. It had been a bit too much and he didn't safeword. That should have been your duty, as you very well know. But he was more shocked by your disappearance than the act itself. He thought you were hurt. Not a single moment he thought it was all because of him. The doctors, the ambulance, everything. He was only worried about you, Mycroft. Right then, I hated you. I really did.” He leant back into the sofa and closed his eyes.  
“And now?” Mycroft whispered.  
“I am here, am I not?” They looked into each other's eyes.  
Mycroft's eyes swam with tears.  
“Yes, you are. I hoped so much you would come back.” A single tear ran over his cheek.  
“Listen, I do like you a lot and there is perhaps even more between us. I know you are coping with similar problems like Sherlock does and don't deny it. I know how to deal with your darling brother. That's why I believe I can deal with you, too. But you will have to listen to me. You have to trust me. So, tell me, do you trust me?” Greg asked.  
“Yes, I do.” A short and simple answer without hesitating. Greg was hopeful.  
“Very good. You know, if we want to be together as a dom and a sub, I need to trust you with my safety. And that's what kept me busy during the last days. What if it had been me tied to your bed under the deprivation mask? You would have run away leaving me behind. And I could have died up there.” Greg stared into nothing.  
“It will need time...” Mycroft quietly said trying to catch his eyes but failing. He carefully reached out and slung his long fingers around Greg's wrist. Only then Greg woke out of his state and stared down at Mycroft's hand. Slowly his head came up.  
“We have time. We will get over this because we are in love with each other.” He lifted his arm and gently pressed a kiss on Mycroft's hand.


End file.
